What Should Have Been
by The Cursed and Torn
Summary: Takes place after the Season Finale Episode, “Born to Run.” My own thoughts on the Terminator Series and the concept of John Connor. Will be a combination of my own storyline and that of the Sarah Connor Chronicles.
1. Breaking the Habit

Summary: Takes place after the Season Finale Episode, _"Born to Run." _My own thoughts on the Terminator Series and the concept of John Connor. Will be a combination of my own storyline and that of the Sarah Connor Chronicles.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles is owned by Fox Productions.**

**Rating T- For Language and Violence. Rating Subjected to Change.**

**Warning: First chapter may have John look sadistic, dark, and maybe a bit mentally unstable**.

* * *

Chapter 1- Breaking the Habit

* * *

Different.

Things were different. Much different.

* * *

He had fought. Bleed. Died. He had done everything that he could, everything that he was told as a child that he had to do in order to fulfill his destiny, to accomplish what he was born to do.

To fight the machines, to form the Human Resistance, to do what was necessary. Undoubtedly, to do what was necessary, meant to put himself through an emotional hell.

Future John, the one whom his mother said he was meant to become, the one who was supposed to be loved, respected, revered as a savior, a messiah. A lie. He was no messiah, he was no savior. He was a tormentor, a man whom had grown up with a chip on his shoulder of which he wished for the world to feel and suffer from.

* * *

He sent his father, Kyle Reese back to 1984 to protect and impregnate his mother, Sarah Connor. Doing so, meant the death of his father and end of any childhood he could have had, one he had so desperately wanted since he was taken away from his mother and put into a foster home.

He then sent a Terminator, a T-800, a machine back ten years after his birth to protect him. He sent a man, one hell bent on protecting him at the cost of its own life. He knew, at the age of ten, John wanted a family, wanted a home. _Wanted to belong._ He found that in the machine, a creature created for the sole purpose of destroying him.

He used that, to slowly begin the process that would force him to grow to the cold hearted man that he was one day meant to be. And it worked.

The paranoia of his mother forced him to move around the country, jumping from state to state, never staying in one place for too long. He thought the running was over when they had met Charley Dixon, a man John soon saw as a potential father figure. And again, his dreams were taken from him once more.

* * *

Then he met her.

Cameron Phillips, the TOK-715, a Terminator, a machine bent on his sole destruction. She had met him at his school in Red Valley New Mexico, disguised as a student, waiting patiently for the day to met him, to talk to him. Protect him.

He had felt, even for those brief two days, that he belonged somewhere. That he was home. And then it was taken from him again.

Cromartie, a T-888, another Terminator that Skynet had yet again sent after him, came into his Chemistry class. He took a role call, and then came to his name. He then pulled out a gun and started firing. Cameron took the bullets and fell to the ground. He thought she was dead. He thought she was human. He found out later that she was wasn't.

Then he jumped eight years into the future. It was the year 2007, and he thought, just for a second, that he could get a new start, a new beginning. He was denied that luxury.

Cromartie had followed him, and after it had repaired its damages, pursued in its mission. To kill him.

John then met his Derek Reese, his father's older brother, his uncle. He had questioned why his future self had sent back his uncle to the past, why he had allowed his only family to return to the past. At first, he believed that it was some form of comfort, to make John realize that he still had family in the future, that it all didn't end with the coming of Judgment Day.

Looking back at it now, John mused at how stupid and naïve he had been. His future self didn't send his uncle back in time to comfort him, to in some odd way reassure him of his fate, to make his wish of a normal life more complacent. It was to make him suffer, harden at the time of Derek's murder.

It was all a plan, one conceived the ill and malevolent mind of the future, of himself. Sending a Terminator back in the form of a pretty teenage girl, one that could lie to him, one that could manipulate his feelings and do what she wanted. One that had a leaking power cell, the very one that caused the leukemia in his mother to start to develop. He now knew what Cameron's last message meant when she kept saying she was sorry. It wasn't for leaving him. It wasn't for lying to him.

It was for helping him become what he was today.

* * *

He smiled. No, it wasn't a smile. John Connor didn't smile, not for more then twenty years. It was cruel, dark, sinister. Yeah, the bastard had succeeded. The John Connor, the boy back in 1999, the one who jumped from 2007 to 2026, to the era where he didn't organize the Human Resistance, to the era where he was nobody important, was dying. Dying for a cause that didn't exist. And he wanted revenge.

He smiled again.

* * *

He couldn't stop the transformation he was going through right now, no, it was far to late to turn back, to make the clock move backwards. He was going to become John Connor, the man whom sent his father to his death, who sent a machine he had thought as a parental figure to make a meaningless sacrifice, who sent a young girl to be captured, tortured, copied, and killed. Who sent his last surviving family to be killed. Who sent a damaged Terminator to give his own mother cancer, and for the same damaged Terminator to lie to him everyday about the man he was to become. The man he was today.

He had wondered on several days since their arrival, why Catherine Weaver had brought him to future. He had no idea way other then he was supposed to fight the war, somehow aid his past self in what he needed to do. That wasn't the case.

Catherine found John Henry, whom turned out to be Cameron. She had switched the Turk for her chip, her memories and thoughts now trapped in the body of a Terminator meant once to kill him. It was on his orders, the orders of the another John, the one responsible for every bit of hell he had gone through in his life. And at that moment, he had enough.

He then shot her in the head.

Derek would have been proud.

* * *

He looked down at the palm of his hand, letting his fingers gently slide across the chip that hadn't been active for more then a decade.

He could've reactivated her, give her a new program, make her forget everything that she was told by the other John and stay by his side like he so desperately wanted those years ago. He had her body again, so it'd simply be a manner of removing her current chip for the one in his hand. He'd have Cameron back.

But he was John Connor. The bastard. The sole reason why so many had to die for no other reason then to cause himself more pain.

_There is no fate but what we make._

He made his fate. He made the choice to be cold, alone, angry. To be consumed by his own hatred and relish in causing the people around him harm.

He had rationalized it at the time that it was only fair. That these people didn't deserve the happiness they got when he, the one who had lost so much was not even allowed a small glimmer of light in the dark abyss that was his soul and heart.

Absentmindedly, he brushed his foot against the cheek of the now dead woman at his feet, a bullet hole in the center of her forehead. He had killed her in cold blood, not even sparing her another look or glance after the deed was done. He had gained a habit of killing people who had wronged him in the past in some way or form. His latest victim was Jesse Flores.

He made her suffer with the same events as before. Made her go aboard the USS Jimmy Carter, made her destroy the entire ship and crew. Allowed Weaver to escape to the past. And most importantly, or to his sadistic glee, made her lose her child, the one she had no idea she was even carrying at the time.

John had to struggle with himself when Cameron came and told him about her conversation with Jesse, almost giving a cynical laugh of satisfaction when she said that the former XO had cried when she found out that she was now a living tomb. After all, he didn't want people to question his already deteriorating sanity.

'_Served the bitch right.' _He had no regrets with the trauma that the woman had gone through in that ordeal. She had caused others more emotional pain and suffering then she could possible have imagined.

After all, he was John Connor.

* * *

Shrugging his shoulders restlessly, he watched the Terminator Units he had assigned to the task of creating a TDE continue their work. Pulling out a old pocket watch, he opened it, revealing a red button in the center. He had all Terminator Units installed with a small explosive in their CPU, all of which would explode once a trigger activated the switch. A safety precaution he had said.

Once the machine was completed, the units all turned towards him, awaiting their next sequence of orders. That was when he took a look at each of the three Terminators in front of him.

The first was a T-800 Series, the very same series model that was sent to kill him mother and then to protect him. Short hair, hardened features, large muscle mass, and a indifferent expression on his face brought up memories John thought had died long ago. He named him Bob.

The next one was the model of a woman he knew he had loved at the tender age of sixteen, the series model TOK-715. Shoulder length hair, a petite frame, wide brown eyes giving her an expression of wonderment and curiosity. He gripped the chip in hand tighter. He named her Cameron.

The following Terminator held no sympathetic or guilty hold on his heart. It was a T-888 Model, with a lean build, short black hair, and average muscle mass. An Infiltrator that had been caught a few months back. But like all the machines under his command, had gotten attached, and gave him a name. His name was Richard.

Returning his gaze back to the kill switch in his hand, John flipped it closed one finally time before he gave them each a look, all characterizing one thing. Trust.

First he sent Bob back in time to 1994. Then he sent Richard to 2006. And finally, he was getting Cameron prepped for the trip to 1999. "Cameron?"

"Yes John?"

He looked at her and then looked back at the chip in his hand. It was up to him now. He could put the chip in her head, make her follow her directives again, make her keep secrets from him, make him the man he was today once again. And then he thought of his younger self.

He saw himself at the age of ten, watching Bob lower himself into the vat of molten metal, destroying himself. He saw himself at the age of sixteen, Cameron stuck between two trucks, shouting her love for him, and the pain that ripped through hi when he ripped her chip from her CPU.

He came to a decision.

Pulling his rifle out, John dropped the chip in his hand to the ground before firing, obliterating it. Tilting her head to the side, Cameron merely turned her inquisitive gaze back to John, silently asking for an explanation for his actions.

He smiled. And for some reason, for the first time in more then a decade, John Connor felt the genuine happiness that came with that smile. "There is no fate but what we make. Today, I'm doing what my predecessors should have done. Today, I'm deciding my own fate."

* * *

Different.

Things were different. Much different.

And they would stay different. He would make sure of it.

* * *

**Terminator Units/Classes:**

**T-800 Model 101:**

**Outdated Terminator Unit. No Longer Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; N/A.**

**T-888 Model 105:**

**Advanced T-850 Terminator Unit. Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; Infiltration.**

**TOK-715 Model (N/A):**

**Unknown Terminator Unit. Mass Production; Unknown. First Series Model In Field. Primary Function; Infiltration. Secondary Function; Termination.**

**Equipment/Weaponry:**

**TDE (Time Displacement Equipment):**

**A machine which allows living tissue and mimetic polyalloy to be sent back and forward in time. Errors can occur regarding the time/place the subject wishes to arrive at. Currently in use by both Skynet and the Resistance.**

****

/-//Author Note//-/

My first Terminator story. It was something I always wanted to do, but decided to wait until after the second season was over. Please review and tell me what you think. Criticism is welcomed.


	2. Things Don't Always Stay the Same

Summary: Takes place after the Season Finale Episode, _"Born to Run." _My own thoughts on the Terminator Series and the concept of John Connor. Will be a combination of my own storyline and that of the Sarah Connor Chronicles.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles is owned by Fox Productions.**

**Rating T- For Language and Violence. Rating Subjected to Change.**

* * *

Chapter 2- Things Don't Always Stay the Same

* * *

He didn't understand. To be more accurate, he didn't understand her, his mother, and the way she operated. They were safe, had been safe for more then two years. She had found a man who loved her, a man who he saw as a father figure. Someone who they could trust.

But her paranoia prevented that. She still thought it was coming, that one day she would wake up staring down the barrel of a gun. No matter how many times he tried to reassure her, the same words always left her lips.

_No one is ever safe._

If that was the case, why had they stayed in the same house, same neighborhood, for two years? She had been engaged to be married. She was ready to take that finally step in commitment. To be a wife and possibly a mother once more. But she faltered.

His eyes narrowed at the desert that stretched on to the horizon.

It was because of him. Always because of him. And he wished everyday that it was different. Wished that he could just wakeup the next morning and find himself in a nice comfy bed, his mother downstairs cooking pancakes, his father reading the morning paper with maybe a little sister or brother sitting in his lap.

His heart clenched.

That life was never meant to be his. He'd never have that, the thing his heart desired the most. A normal life, a life without the responsibilities of John Connor, the future leader of the Human Resistance, the Savior of Mankind. The sworn enemy of Skynet, the computer system that would bring about Judgment Day and destroy over two-thirds of the human race. And he hated that fact.

His thoughts broke when he heard the car door opening. Looking back to his left, he saw his mother getting out of the car, the vehicle parked outside a small house. And from the appearance of it, probably abandoned.

He snorted. As if he expected any less. Getting out of the passenger seat, John went to back of his mother's Jeep Grand Waggoner and pulled out the two bags of firearms that his mother had packed for the trip from the storage house they had placed them in. Walking inside, John let his eyes travel the area of the house.

Stark, dark, and empty. Yeah, already feels like home sweet home. Dumping the bags on the floor near the door, John started to give the house a second glance. He realized that the place was probably in the middle of some renovations when it was abandoned. Tools littered the floor and table tops, holes in the walls that either were barely covered with plaster or halfway painted.

"So we're staying here now?" A stupid question with an obvious answer, but he still wanted some verification on this. If only to make himself more comfortable.

Staring at him for only a second, Sarah Connor headed for the kitchen after she gave him a quick nod before beckoning him to follow. Arriving in the kitchen a few seconds following his mother's entry, he watched her pull one of the bags she had with them before opening it up, showing an assortment of guns ranging from a Uzi to a Thompson.

Watching her pull the weapons out, John watched as his mother pulled out what he dubbed as her 'favorite'. The SPAS-12 Shotgun. Though to an average person, one would have been weary of a woman of his mother's history pull out such a weapon and almost smile lovingly at it, John wasn't an average person. He knew of the weapon's significance to her, as it saved both hers and his life during two instances of their lives.

He frowned as he remembered both those times.

The first was in 1984, when his mother was in college and working as a waitress. As it was the 80's, his mom had her fair share of men in her life, going from date to date, boyfriend to boyfriend, trying to find 'Mr. Right' while juggling a job and school at the same time. Then it had all come to a abrupt end.

It was on that day, that night, when a Terminator, a machine sent from the future had come back in time for the sole purpose of eliminating his mother and preventing the birth of the man that its master, Skynet, would one day fear. Him. To counter act this move, his future self, the John Connor that was the leader of the Human Resistance, sent one of his soldiers back in time to protect her.

And then eventually impregnate her.

That was the night that his mother's heart had hardened and she become the cold hearted woman most were used to seeing her as for the next few years that were to come. Because it was that night that she had witnessed the death of the man she loved, by the hands of a machine that was meant to kill her.

And then the second incident came into play.

It was about ten years later, when John himself was barely ten years of age when another Terminator, another machine came back in time to kill him. Except this one was stronger, faster, deadlier. To ensure his survival, his future self had sent another protector. But instead of sending another human, he sent a machine, another Terminator, the very same model that had traveled to 1984 to kill his mother. Reprogrammed with the mission to ensure his protection and life, the T-800 Series came back in time just like its predecessor.

That was when John had made the first mistake regarding his training. He had grown attached. To a machine. To the very thing he was someday going to wage war against, to kill, to destroy. And in the end, he had begged for it, _him_, to stay with him, ordered him to remain at his side, even in its sever damaged state. To this day, John still firmly believed that maybe if he wasn't so damaged, that if Uncle Bob had not insisted on fighting the machine alone, he would still be here, by his side, like he had wished. Still did to a certain extent.

Snapping out of his thoughts he watched as his mom started to take the guns apart and begin cleaning them before she started to speak.

"I enrolled you into the high school here."

John couldn't stop the disbelieving smile that soon graced his face. "Mom, I don't think learning about Shakespeare and Algebra is going to help me be the future leader of mankind."

She gave him a tight smile, one that John recognized as she had often gave him that smile when he was trying to sneak something by her. "Your going to school John. Your first day is tomorrow."

Stretching his arms across the table, John let out a small sigh of disappointment before he said, "Yeah, well some things never change." Standing straighter, John left the kitchen so his mother could work while he went off to explore the rest of the house, missing the small sad smile that graced his mother's face as she continued to clean her shotgun.

* * *

Outskirts; 0200 Hours, Red Valley, New Mexico…

* * *

She sat alone in the small shack she had constructed some months ago, waiting patiently for the next day to come. Her brown eyes swept across the room as she took note of what needed replacing. The small bath she had constructed required a new water source soon, and the pipelines that was lined into said water source were rusting.

She tilted her head to the side as her data flashed before her HUD, her eyes flashing blue as she did a quick diagnoses on her systems to make sure everything was in working order.

**

* * *

**

Initiating Diagnostic Test:

**Diagnostic Complete.**

**Power Cell: 98.9% Output.**

**Secondary Power Cell: 100% Output.**

**Endoskeleton Integrity: 99.8%**

**CPU Integrity: 99.2%**

**Combat Servos: 99.7%**

* * *

With her eyes reverting back to brown, Cameron Phillips returned her gaze back to the wall as she waited patiently for the next day to arrive.

After all, she didn't sleep.

* * *

Reese Residence; 0700 Hours, Red Valley, New Mexico…

* * *

John gave a small grunt of acknowledgement to what his mother said, ignoring what she said for the most part in reality. He heard it all before, dozens of times before actually. His background stories were all the same. His mother was a homemaker, always stayed at home. Waiting for him to come home. His father was dead. Was a soldier who died on a mission. He was a hero.

And he was always dead.

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, John resumed eating his mother's legendary "pancakes". He doubted that even the most hardened Resistance fighter would eat this stuff. What he wouldn't give for some real pancakes…

After claiming that he wasn't hunger, which couldn't be farther from the truth, John decided that he grab something from the school cafeteria some point during the day. Couldn't be any worse then his mother's cooking.

"Remember your story John. I'll pick you up at the main entrance okay? Trust no one and don't bring attention to yourself. I'll see you after school."

For whatever reason, John allowed himself a faint smile. Despite her faults, her short comings, her constant failures of being a good mother, he loved her. He loved her and wouldn't trade her for anything in the world. And he meant anything.

Giving her a quick hug, John whispered, "I'll be alright. Don't worry about me. I'll see you later." He gave her a wry smile. She returned it.

The way they lived their lives was unorthodox. Unhealthy. It was dangerous and unnecessary. It was all they knew. And they wouldn't change it.

Not so long as they still had each other.

* * *

Red Valley High school; 0900 Hours…

* * *

She found him. After exactly 63 days, 13 hours, 46 minutes, 34 seconds, she had finally found him. Her mission. Her target.

John Connor.

1st Period had ended only a few minutes ago, and she now saw her opportunity to make contact. Smiling for the first time from something she had akin to happiness, she walked up to her assigned target, clutching her books tightly against her chest, a behavioral habit she had picked up from monitoring the females around her.

After arriving behind him, and noticing that he had not sensed her presence yet, the girl felt a frown etch itself on her face. She needed his attention. Reaching a hand forward tentatively, she hovered over his shoulder for a few moments, unsure on her next course of action. To an innocent bystander, it merely looked as if she was nervous.

They had no idea how right they were.

She then proceeded to tap his shoulder.

After all, she had a mission to accomplish.

* * *

John turned in an instant, fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins. The sight standing directly in front of him took his breath away.

Before him stood a beautiful teenage girl. Shoulder length brown hair, beautiful light tan skin, wide innocent brown eyes, and a smile that showed off her perfect teeth. John eyes traveled further, and he noted she had a petite figure, her curves adorning her body to what he could only believe was that of a Greek goddess. She was in every sense of the word, perfect. And that was when reality settled uncomfortably with him.

_No friends, no attachments. No social communication. Stay under the radar._

Yeah, he was good at that. In these cases he would have to try and take the attention off of himself. All he had to do was act as the new weird kid and he would be ignored, just like the other twenty-three times he had to do this.

"Um…yeah?" Okay maybe he didn't have to try. It came as second nature only topped by his instinctive attempt to reach for a non-existent firearm in his back pocket.

The girl's smile seemed to widen at him.

"Hi. I guess you're the new kid, right?" At John's nod, the girl outstretched her right hand, her left clutching her books against her chest. "My name is Cameron Phillips. Pleasure to meet you…?"

Snapping out of his reverie, John quickly took the girl's offered hand, giving it two firm shakes before releasing her. He couldn't help but notice though how soft her hands were…

"John. John Reese." As the name registered in the girl's mind, John could have sworn he thought he saw her eyes turn blue for a moment, but dismissed it, reasoning that the lights must have played a trick on his eyes.

"Well, nice to met you John. So, first day huh?"

Though John felt this was clearly obvious, he was slightly enamored with her, so he answered her.

"Yeah. First day."

Her smile slackened slightly to a sympathetic grin. "Sucks for you." With her smile returning, she gave John a once over before she asked, "So how do you like it so far? The school I mean?"

Shrugging his shoulders while trying to distract himself, John mumbled, "So far so good. But then its only been first period."

Leaning against the lockers beside him, Cameron removed the smile from her face, though her eyes still shinned with the same mirth she had presented to him from a moment ago. "So what do your parents do? My mom is a lawyer and my dad sells tractors."

John felt his throat constrict and his stance stiffen before he forced himself to relax. Busying himself by pulling nonessential items from his locker, John said, "My mom stays at home. My dad sells insurance."

Tilting her head to the side, a confused expression came across her face, and John had to admit that Cameron actually looked cute like that. "Insurance huh? What type?"

"The boring kind."

"The boring kind?"

Nodding his head and feeling slightly uneasy, John nodded his head a little to quickly before he said rather hastily, "Uh…yeah…um…"

The bell rang.

And John didn't waste a second.

Slamming his locker shut and walking down the hall hastily, John said, "I gotta get to second period. See you later Cameron."

"Right, see ya."

As John rounded the corner, he didn't see the hurt expression on Cameron's face before it morphed to a look of determination before she followed him down the hall. She did after all have a mission to accomplish.

* * *

John gave a small groan of discomfort as he took a seat in computer class. His mom was going to flip out when she found out that he was taking this course after she specifically told him not too.

Logging into the system, John frowned when he saw the computer taking longer then normal to boot up. And that was when he got a good look at its model. Around early 90's late 80's, and from the shape it was in, not in good repair.

'_Only time I am actually near a computer and its basically pure shit. Perfect.'_

As soon as the desktop appeared on the screen, John wasted no time in hacking into the school mainframe. Entering the student listings, he searched for the Cameron Phillips, for some reason being unable to get her out of his head.

'_I'm hacking and risking my safety over a girl had only spoken to for barely five minutes. What the hell is wrong with me today…?'_

With her picture and information coming on screen, John was barely able to get a glimpse at her name and age before somebody came up behind him.

"Hi John."

Turning around with his arms over the computer screen, John found the very person who's information he was viewing standing before him, a shy smile on her face. _'Is she…blushing?'_

For some reason unknown to him, John felt his own cheeks heat up.

Twirling a piece of her hair into a small curl, Cameron bit her lower lip, staring intently at the ground, her feet shuffling a bit uneasily. Wishing he could crawl under a rock or something at the moment, John stared determinedly at the ceiling, looking at anywhere but her.

"You know…if you wanted to get to know me a little better, all you had to do was ask."

John really wished at that moment a Terminator walked in the room and kill him at that moment. "Right. Listen…Cameron, I-"

"Will you help me study?"

Faltering, John took a moment to glance at her, and noticed how she went from shy to insecure in just a few seconds. With her arms clutching the books she was carrying tightly to her chest, she was chewing on her lower lip again, this time her amazing chocolate colored eyes were now filled with worry and fear, completely contradictory to the happiness that were in them moments ago. John felt his own sadness grow at the sight of her. Being sad and insecure didn't seem to fit with her, didn't seem natural. Caught in his own thoughts, he barely heard or registered the next words that flowed from her mouth.

"You see…I…um…well this is going to sound silly but, computers scare me. I can't really explain it, but they make me uncomfortable. I just feel like one day they are going to go and blow up the world or something. I know its stupid and can't really be possible, but still."

John didn't say anything for a few seconds before he looked at her in the eyes before he whispered, "No, its understandable. Everybody is afraid of something, no matter how dumb it may sound."

The saddened look on her face immediately disappeared, replaced instantly by a smile. It brought a smile to his face as well.

"So can you help me study?"

He wanted to answer yes. He wanted so badly let those words escape his lips, but the image of his mother came to mind, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I want to help, I really do, but…"

John really regretted speaking at that moment when he noticed the slightly hurt look on Cameron's face. Fumbling with his words, John blurted out, "I mean, I really want to help, but my mom is really uptight and see expects me home as soon as school is over and I kind of don't want to disappoint her. If I could-"

John's ramblings were cut short as Cameron sealed his lips with her finger, a small smile on her own. "Right. Maybe I was a little to forward with you. How about tomorrow? Maybe I can met your mother today after school, get to her know me a little bit before she makes her decision on whether or not to keep you on house arrest?"

"Uh…yeah, sure, alright."

Her smile, if anything, widened significantly. "Great! I'll see you at the end of the day, say at the main entrance? Then we'll see your mother together."

At John's nod, Cameron walked back to her seat, an extra spring in her step as the teacher walked into the room, unaware of the small grin that was lighting John's face.

'_Maybe today won't be so bad after all.'_

* * *

**Terminator Units/Classes: ****(N/A)**

**Equipment/Weaponry:**

**SPAS-12 Shotgun:**

**Cartridge- 12 Gauge, 2 ¾****"**

**Weight- 9.7 lbs (4.4 kg)**

**Length (Stock Extended)- 41in (1041 mm)**

**Rate of Fire (ROF)- 4 rounds/sec (Auto). One round per trigger pull.**

**Range- Effective; 150 ft.**

**Max; 300 ft.**

**Capacity- 8+1 round internal tube magazine.**

**Method of Firing; Pump or Gas-Actuated. (Auto)**

* * *

/**/-/Author Note/-//**

**Second chapter is up. A little in-depth look into John and his thoughts with a introduction for Cameron. For those who are wondering why Cameron appears to be acting more human, there is a reason that will be explained later. Thank you to all who have reviewed. Hope you enjoyed this second chapter and remember to send me more reviews. Criticism is welcomed!**


	3. First Impressions

Summary: Takes place after the Season Finale Episode, _"Born to Run." _My own thoughts on the Terminator Series and the concept of John Connor. Will be a combination of my own storyline and that of the Sarah Connor Chronicles.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles is owned by Fox Productions.**

**Rating T- For Language and Violence. Rating Subjected to Change.**

* * *

Chapter 3- First Impressions

* * *

John was sitting on the pavement, waiting patiently for his mother to arrive. She was late, and that in itself was worrying enough. His mother was never late. Not when it concerned to him. Never when it concerned him.

To add to his nerves, Cameron was standing beside him, leaning against the wall, staring at him from the corner of her eyes. He didn't bother to comment on it, not after he realized she still continued to do so after the first few times he had addressed the issue. And he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't like it.

Maybe he was being petty or just enjoying the attention he was receiving to much, but all he knew was that he liked having this attractive teenage girl staring at him, only to advert her eyes when he glanced at her. The only interest he'd ever received had been either on orders to protect him or kill him. It was a sad truth he had learned to accept a long time ago.

His father was sent on orders to protect his mother, and thus passing his mission onto her. Uncle Bob was sent to protect him from a another machine that was sent to kill him. He knew in the future that he'd have hundreds of people willing to throw down their lives for him, reprogrammed Terminators willing to die and kill to ensure his survival. But in the end, their sacrifices would mean nothing to John. He would regret their deaths, yes, he wasn't heartless after all, but they would mean anything to him, not on a personal level.

He actually wondered if he really did have any friends in the future. He never got the chance to ask Uncle Bob, mostly because at the time, he had believed they were safe. That possibility of Skynet was gone. That Judgment Day had been averted. He still believed that, despite his mother's paranoia.

But that didn't stop the question from popping up to his mind's eye every once in a while. What did he have in the future? Was he just John Connor, Savior of Mankind, the Leader of the Human Resistance? Or was he more then that? Was he a friend to the many or the few? Was he known as a husband? A father? A grandfather? Questions that never crossed his mind at the age of ten now hiding in every dark corner, waiting to catch him off guard.

He broke his train of thoughts when he saw his mother pull up into the front of the school, an expectant look on her face as she looked at him through the passenger window.

Standing up, John gave her a meaningful glance before directing his eyes to Cameron, whom know had her attention focused entirely on him, much to his embarrassment and enjoyment.

'_Hold it together Connor.'_

With his mom getting the message, she turned the car off before she opened her door and stepped out. As she made her way towards them, John became aware that Cameron was now right beside him, her shoulder brushing against his slightly.

He then took a sharp intake of breath as Cameron then slipped her hand into his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. While this would surely give his mother the wrong impression, he couldn't stop the feelings of calmness and serenity that flooded within him at her touch.

With his mom now standing before them, John quickly made the introductions.

"Mom? This my new friend Cameron Phillips. Cameron, this is my mom."

* * *

Sarah was torn. On one hand, John had disobeyed her and did what she had exactly forbade him to do. He had brought attention to himself. He had made a friend. A friend who was a pretty teenage girl who seemed to have an interest in John that was more then necessary. Even though she had been there for less then a minute, she already decided that this girl, Cameron, had some sort unhealthy desire to be beside him. It was evident in the fact that she had moved right beside him when she arrived, her shoulder brushing against his every time either one of them moved. Her eyes trailed lower for a second, and she felt her lips form a tight line as she noted Cameron's hand was laced in his.

Yeah. Definitely something more was going through this girl's mind then friendship.

Returning her eyesight to the two teenagers, Sarah decided that now wasn't the time nor the place to interrogate a young girl about her intentions with her son. Glancing at said child, she noticed how John wasn't staring directly at her, already anticipating the cold demeanor she was known for as his mother, no matter what alias they used.

'_Maybe it won't be so bad if John had one friend. I can't be around him all the time, and as long as its someone I can get a hold of easily, then it should be fine. For now.'_

* * *

Smiling, Sarah extended her hand to Cameron. "Sarah Reese. Pleased to met you Cameron." Taking her hand, Cameron returned the smile before she said, "Pleased to met you Ms. Reese." Feeling a small bit of annoyance at the formal tone, Sarah said, "Sarah is just fine. Ms. Reese makes me feel old."

Cameron seemed surprised by her request before she smiled again. "Alright…Sarah." Nodding her head in approval, she turned her gaze back to John.

"Is there a reason why you wanted to introduce your new friend to me John?"

John, who was shocked at his mother's completive attitude towards his 'new' friend, didn't really register what she said until she repeated herself, this time a little louder and with a sharp edge to her tone. She never did like it when he didn't listen to her after all.

"Oh! Um…yeah. Mom? Cameron wanted to know if it was alright if I would be her study partner. She was hoping it could have been today, but she would be happy to do it tomorrow if you don't feel comfortable with it being today."

* * *

Now it was official. This girl had something in mind other then friendship if she was already asking her son to spend some time alone with her. Alone. Unsupervised. Only after speaking with him for less then a day.

She smiled.

"Not today. Its too sudden. And I don't know you well enough. Maybe if I were to meet your parents or something." Cameron's smile faltered for a second.

"My mother went on a family trip with my grandparents to Florida and won't be back until sometime next week. My father is busy with work and has been showing up home late this past week. I don't know when he will have any free time."

A tense silence followed her statement, and John felt as if he could through it if he had a knife present. Then Cameron's eyes widened, her mouth slightly agape as she came up with a solution.

"How about tomorrow you chaperone? You can monitor us while we study, that why you can know a little bit more about me and still know that John's alright."

Out of all the possible responses that Sarah was planning for, that wasn't one of them. She remembered a time where John would be leaving the school, a swarm of girls behind him, apparently in love with his 'bad boy' attitude. She had heard all the reasons, all the excuses that each and every girl gave to try and get close to him. Then she would give them one look and they ran off with their tails between their legs. She had gotten a sick satisfaction out of it. Still did if she remembered what had happened just a few weeks ago before they moved.

But this girl was different. Instead of fighting the good fight to get her way, she had come up with a solution, a compromise that would both get her what she wanted and what Sarah wanted, which in essence was the same thing.

John.

And she wasn't ready to admit that she was uncomfortable with that fact. John was her responsibility. Always was, always will be. On some level, she felt insecure about her relationship with her son. She knew that she was a horrible mother, probably one of the worst. Who taught their son at the age of five how to handle CAR-15? Who teaches their child to not to trust anyone, that nowhere is safe? Who expects their child to become a legendary hero, a messiah to the human race, a savior, before he can even walk, let alone talk?

That was one of the reasons why she always pushed John, why she always made him believe that she knew what was best for him. That only she had his best interests at heart. Because she was afraid if she didn't, then he would open himself to another, and he would replace her. He had done it before, had done it with his father, with a _machine_, of all things.

The memory brought a feeling of disgust in her stomach. For once it wasn't with Skynet, it wasn't with John, and it wasn't with the machine he had affectionately called 'Uncle Bob'. No, it was with herself. She had denied her son a whole childhood, a period where a person looks back on as the best moments of their lives. All for what? To make herself feel important? To make John become dependent on her to the point where he couldn't function without her? How was that helping him become what he was meant to be? Wasn't that deterring the very cause that Kyle was sent back for? To protect her and ensure the birth of John, his leader and hero?

She felt her resolve weaken. John was meant to be a leader, there was no way out of that unsettling truth. But there was no reason as to why John had to suffer for it, that he couldn't be happy and content.

A bitter thought crossed her mind at that moment. _'I only realize this after we've become fugitives of the law.'_

Any chance they could have had a perfect normal life was gone the moment she had gotten caught and thrown into that mental hospital. They even, if it were possible, seemed farther away when she, John, and the T-800 had destroyed Cyberdyne Labs. And the moment she had John abandon Charley made all hope that a normal life would even possible disappear for good. Or at least so it probably appeared to John.

'_Which explains why he wouldn't look at me when he introduced Cameron. He thought I was going to make him forget her, make him never come in contact with her again.'_

And Sarah Connor had a epiphany at that moment.

John wasn't going to need her forever. At some point, he was going to have to led, he was going to have to grow up. Someday, he was going to leave her.

And she would have to let him go.

Even if she didn't want to.

And it was that realization that made Sarah want to crawl into a ball and cry. She always believed that John would need her, that she was essential in his life. It was at this moment when she realized that John truly didn't need her.

She needed him.

'_It'll just be the two of us. Just like old times.'_

Times of what exactly? Hardship? Anger? Misery? Pain? Any, or perhaps all these things were emotions John had probably felt towards her one more then one occasion. And she was oblivious to it all because she indulging in the satisfaction that John had again obeyed her, again trusted her. And she had taken advantage of that. Far too many times.

And she needed to change that. Now more then every.

* * *

Worried at his mother's lack of a response, John unconsciously tightened his grip on Cameron's hand, not even fully aware that their hands were still laced together, something that he would have relished if he was truly conscious of the fact.

His worry only increased when a series of emotions came across her face, each disappearing before he was able to determine what they were. Finally, her expression settled back to one of resolve, a look John only saw when his mom was dead set for or against something. This mean one thing.

'_It was nice knowing you Cameron.'_

"I don't think that will be necessary Cameron. I was just testing the waters, you know, to see what your intentions were towards him. But its been a while since John has had any friends. So I suppose you and John can have your little study date tomorrow. Afterwards, how about I take you two out to eat? Then I'll drop you off at your place? Sound fair?" At that, Cameron nodded before she turned and gave a pointed look.

"I told you your mother would be reasonable. And she doesn't seem as uptight as you said she was."

John for his part, was trying to no avail come up with a reasonable explanation as to why his mother decided that he didn't have any friends for a while, and that now was a good time to start. It was absurd, it didn't make sense. Didn't she say this morning that she didn't want him to make any connections, that she didn't want him to draw attention to himself? Sure, Cameron was just one person, but if someone like her, attractive, popular, (Though he wasn't able to prove that theory yet) and probably every guy's dream girl, what's to say that others wouldn't want to come into contact with him as well?

He didn't get to voice out his question, as he remembered at that moment that his left hand was clasped tightly in Cameron's right. Blushing a shade of red he was sure that his mother noticed, John hastily broke the contact before he went to his mother's side.

"I guess so. I'll see tomorrow though. Bye Cam." When the nickname flew from his mouth, John wanted to slam his head into the pavement. _'Idiot! You don't even know her and your giving her a pet name! What is wrong with you today!?'_

While going on a mental tirade, John didn't notice the raised eyebrow his mother was shooting at him or the blush that intensified Cameron's face.

"Yes, I suppose so. See you tomorrow John." Walking towards him, she leaned forward before she planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Breaking the contact, Cameron gave Sarah a hasty goodbye before she walked off towards the parking lot in the back of the school, her face still flushed.

Turning her eyes back to her son, Sarah let a teasing smile grace her face. "I guess I can forgo asking you if you met any pretty girls today."

Now it was John's turn to feel his face flush red.

* * *

Outskirts; 1800 Hours, Red Valley, New Mexico…

* * *

Cameron stared at her reflection in the mirror she had acquired while she had gotten supplies for 'shack' as she had come to call it. She wouldn't call it home, a home was a place where the heart was, or so the expression went.

She didn't have a heart.

She had a Iridium power cell and a secondary primary power cell, both of which she needed in order to remain operational. But they did not met the human requirements of a heart.

She lifted her hand and traced her lips, noticing how her sensors noted a tingling sensation as her CPU brought up a playback of the last moment she had spent with her primary target.

Why did she kiss him? It was not necessary, she had already gotten his mother to agree to letting him spend time with her after school, allowing her to follow her protection protocol.

And then her CPU brought her the answer. The moment the word 'Cam' had left his lips.

Cam. Short for Cameron. A nickname/pet name. Often given from one who holds a strong attraction/affection for another. She had seen others give other people, loved ones nicknames, and on occasion, give them a kiss as well.

But she didn't know why.

And she disliked that fact.

She looked at her subroutines. One of them was a basic knowledge of psychology. Another was basic human behavior. She opened up the file on the latter.

**SUBROUTINE FILE 001254:**

**HUMAN BEHAVIORAL TRAITS;**

**LOADING…**

After the file opened it, a vast amount of tactical date flashed before her HUD, and she processed it all within a second. And to her disappointment, she found nothing that described her behavior.

And to add to her frustrations, she found herself wanting to do it again.

She checked her internal clock for the current time.

**1800 HOURS, 21 MINUTES, 43 SECONDS**.

She didn't sleep.

She was starting to wish that she could.

* * *

Reese Residence; 1900 Hours, Red Valley, New Mexico…

* * *

John stared at the ceiling of his room, his emotions in a constant battle with one another. On one hand, he was going to see Cameron again. He finally had a friend. A _human_ friend. And the thought invoked a happiness in him that he hadn't felt ever in his life. Sure, he had felt happiness on several occasions, one of them being when he had rescued his mother. When he knew that she was safe. Another occasion was when his mom had met Charley, and then when she had accepted the ring that he had given her when he asked her to marry him.

At the time, he thought things were going to be normal for him, that he was going to have a normal life. He had complained to his mother more times then he could count on how all he wanted to be was normal. How he just wanted to be a normal fifteen year old boy.

And it was here, now, at a "hick" town, with the help of a pretty teenage town girl, that had finally broken his mother's resolve. She allowed him a friend. To others his age, that wouldn't be something worth celebrating. To others his age, it would actually be something expected.

But for John Connor, it was something akin to a miracle.

One thing was for certain though. He owed Cameron a lot for the way his life seemed to be turning out now.

More then he would ever know.

* * *

Crest View High School; 0800 Hours, Red Valley, New Mexico…

* * *

John felt nervous. He knew the reason why, and he also knew that the very idea of it was ridiculous. There was no reason to be nervous or even scared. He was John Connor, the supposed Savior of Mankind. He had stared death in the face, had gone through a rigorous training regiment that no child at the age of six shouldn't even dream of facing.

And he was terrified at the thought of a pretty teenage girl by the name of Cameron.

'_Its not like I haven't spoken to pretty girls before. There was Kate Brewster back in Junior High…'_

While that was true, John neglected one very important fact that he purposely didn't bring up. Kate was a girl. Cameron was a woman.

'_Since when did I let hormones govern my life?'_

"Good morning John."

He froze.

Turning his head around rather quickly, and wincing when he heard an audible crack meaning he pulled a muscle in his neck, John found the very person his thoughts were currently being occupied by.

"Um…good morning Cam."

She blushed at the nickname. And this time he noticed. And it gave him hope that the rest of the day would go smoothly.

Taking her hand, a bold move on his part, John led her to their first class of the day, Chemistry with Mr. Ferguson.

Before they entered the classroom, Cameron leaned up and gave him another kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for escorting me to class Mr. Reese." Now it was John's turn to blush.

"N-not a problem!" Allowing to enter first, John took a seat at the nearest seat to the door, Cameron taking the seat beside him.

She smiled at him.

And John decided that now was a time as good as any to tell her the truth. Or part of it.

"Cam?"

"Yes John?"

He took a breath, trying to calm his nerves before he looked at Cameron, his voice catching in his throat at the sheer intensity of the gaze that she was giving him. Almost as if what he had to say deserved nothing but her sole attention. That what he said was all that mattered.

"I lied to you. About my dad. He doesn't sell insurance. He was a solider in the army. He died while on a mission." He turned his gaze back to the top of his desk, feeling the unwelcoming sensation of tears wielding in his eyes.. "He died a hero."

Feeling a soft hand on his chin, he let it guide his head back to Cameron's eyes, and noticed the understanding and acceptance in her eyes. "Its okay. I understand. Its alright." And for the first time since the destruction of Cyberdyne, John truly felt that it was going to actually be alright.

"Thanks Cam."

She didn't smile, but the happiness that radiated from her eyes was enough for John to know that she was okay.

The moment was broken as the door was opened, a man appearing to be in his late twenties entering the classroom. Taking the seat at Mr. Ferguson's desk, he took a look at all the students, his eyes only staying on each student for a second before moving to the next.

After he landed his gaze on Cameron, whom was staring at him in the same manner, the man turned his gaze back to the class as a whole.

"Hello. My name is Mr. Cromartie. Mr. Ferguson is out today, so I will be your substitute teacher until he returns."

John felt nervous all of a sudden. The way he spoke, held himself, how he hadn't blinked the moment he entered. He unconsciously tightened his grip on his desk, making a quick glance at the door.

"Cromartie? Is that your real name, like Maddona?"

He stared at the girl who had spoken, confusion present in his voice. "Maddona, why? No." Everyone but John and Cameron laughed at his clueless demeanor.

Taking a seat, he opened up the briefcase on the desk before pulling out several sheets of paper. "I will now take attendance. Donald Chase…"

After listening to several of his classmates names being called, John noted Cameron still hadn't taken her eyes of Mr. Cromartie, looking as if she were studying him. "Cam?"

"I don't like him."

John didn't need to know who she was talking about. "Yeah. Me neither." She didn't do anything other then nod her head in acknowledgement, showing that she had heard John's statement.

"Cynthia Nolan. Cameron Phillips." At her name being called, Cameron gave Mr. Cromartie a leveled stare before she said expressionlessly, "Here."

"John Reese. Do we have a John Reese?"

John's burrows knitted together in a frown. Did the teacher just ask for him twice? And did he sound…eager? Shaking his head, John decided that his ears were playing tricks on him.

Raising his hand, John said, "Here."

Turning towards him, Mr. Cromartie stared hit for less then a second before he spoke.

"Excellent."

Then he pulled a Beretta 92 and started to fire.

* * *

**Terminator Units/Classes:** **(N/A)**

**Equipment/Weaponry:**

**Beretta 92:**

**Weight- 950 g**

**Overall Length- 217mm**

**Barrel Length- 125mm**

**Caliber- 9x19mm Luger Parabellum**

**Rate Of Fire- Short-Recoil, locked breech**

**Capacity- 15-round detachable magazine box**

**Method Of Firing- Double Action Trigger**

* * *

**//-/Author Note/-//**

**Third chapter is up. Finally moving along with the plot too. This chapter gives an introduction into Sarah's character and her thoughts, things that I believe that more then likely she does feel, put unwilling to admit. Also a little bit more action between John and Cameron. Remeber to review. Criticism is welcomed.**


	4. Some Things Never Change

**Summary: Takes place after the Season Finale Episode, **_**"Born to Run." **_**My own thoughts on the Terminator Series and the concept of John Connor. Will be a combination of my own storyline and that of the Sarah Connor Chronicles. **

**

* * *

**

**Disclaimer: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles is owned by Fox Productions.**

**Rating T- For Language and Violence. Rating Subjected to Change.**

* * *

Chapter 4- Some Things Never Change

* * *

John didn't even hesitate. As soon as he saw the Beretta in hand, he dived for the floor, hearing the ring of gunshots flying by his head, shattering the lab equipment behind him. Moving, John ran around the table that was behind, hearing more gunshots aimed for him before something fell on top of his legs, bringing him down. Looking behind him, John's eyes widened in horror as he saw Cameron's lifeless body next to him, her arms draped over his legs. Pushing back on his hands, John's mouth moved, no sounds able to come out to express the horror he was feeling.

Cameron was dead. Shot. Shot with bullets that were meant for him.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard several desks slam against each other, meaning that the machine, the Terminator that had posed as a substitute teacher was closing in on him.

Getting up and staying as low as possible, John made a run for the window, fully aware of the fact that the machine could shoot and kill him at a moments notice.

As soon as he was a foot away from the window, John leaped towards it, crashing right through as he heard another gunshot ring through the air, shattering the glass of the window right beside him, merely inches away from hitting him and taking his life.

Landing on the roof of a lower section of the school, John scrambled to his feet, making a dash for the parking lot, hoping against hope that he could somehow lose his purser in the mass of vehicles.

'_And when I thought I was actually going to have a normal life.'_

* * *

Cromartie frowned as the bullet he fired missed his primary target, shattering the window that was right behind him instead.

* * *

**PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:**

**TERMINATE JOHN CONNOR.**

**CURRENT DIRECTIVE: PURSUE.**

* * *

Stepping over the lab desks, Cromartie stopped for a moment, turning his attention back to the remaining students of the class, all of which had taken refugee under their desks, whom were transfixed by the metallic endoskeleton that was being revealed from the large wound in his leg.

Looking through his subroutines, Cromartie found the file on human behavior, and after processing the file, came to the conclusion that in stressful situations, humor usually relived tension.

Activating his CPU data bank, he looked through a series of responses to the students, though at that point, it was rather pointless. Finally coming down to one phrase, all in the process of four seconds, finally spoke before he headed out of the window following after his target.

"Class dismissed."

* * *

Stumbling, John ran towards the school bus that was in front of him, feeling a bead of sweat working its way down his forehead as he heard the audible click of his pursuer replacing the magazine for his gun. As soon as he got to the bus, he collapsed against it, his breathing coming shallow. Deciding to take a glance around the edge of the hood, John leaned his head forward.

He regretted that decision immediately following the array of bullets that shattered the side mirror that could have easily been his head. Running in the opposite direction, John fought the compulsion to go down onto the ground and cover his head as more gunfire rained on him, the windows on the bus shattering as the Terminator continued to fire at him.

Reaching the parking lot, John ran behind a car before he went down on his knees, his head barely visible behind the trunk of the car as he waited with baited breath for the machine's next move.

And it didn't disappoint.

With a tremendous crash, John looked up startled by the noise, noticing the bus no on its side, his assailant now standing on top of it, his eyes scanning the area, no doubt trying to find him. Lowering himself slightly, John prayed that the cyborg hopefully would overlook him before he moved on, thinking that he had left the general area.

There was no such luck.

After he stared at his general direction for a second, the machine jumped from his position on the bus before he took aim again before he resumed firing.

Running, John nearly tripped over his own feet as he dived between cars, their back windshields breaking apart as the bullets flew by his head, nearly grazing him.

Laying low, John ran towards the next line of cars, trying in vain to get his wobbly feet under control. Taking a look behind him, he noticed the Terminator Unit moving his gaze from left to right, trying to locate him. Seeing his chance, John quickly made his way between a couple of vehicles, trying to make it out into the next line of parked cars before he would make a run for it.

He then lost his footing before he fell to the ground, scraping his hands and kneecaps.

Giving a small cry of panic, John tried to get to his feet before his pursuer found him again. Looking up, John felt the air catch in his throat as his brain shut down, fear overriding all his senses.

Standing in front of him was the machine, Beretta in hand, staring down at him, cold calculating eyes watching as he struggled to his feet.

Raising the weapon up, the barrel pointing right between his eyes, john watched helplessly as the machine tilted its head to the side slightly, no doubt taking in the satisfaction that it would succeed where others had failed.

It would kill John Connor. It would bring victory to its master, to Skynet. With a single twitch of its fingers, it would end a war before it even started.

That was before a Ford F-150 slammed right into it from behind.

John couldn't believe his luck at that moment. Remembering a time back when he was ten years old and something similar had happened to him, John looked at the truck as it reversed back towards his direction. He had the fleeting image of seeing a tall, muscled, Austrian man sitting in the drivers seat, a pair of sunglasses on as he replayed those famous words he had heard spoken to his mother when they had rescued her from Pescadero State Hospital.

"_Come with me if you want to live."_

The door to the pickup truck was thrown open, revealing Cameron sitting in the driver's seat. "Come with me if you want to live."

John didn't need to be told twice.

Stumbling, John quickly made his way to the passenger side of the truck, slamming the door shut before Cameron hit the acceleration, driving out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

Turning his head towards her, he noticed the blood that was soaking though her shirt over her left breast, two other similar wounds in her shoulder and left abdomen. Glancing up at her face, which was now directed in his direction, John let out a labored breath, letting his head slide back against the headrest of his seat.

* * *

John felt torn between outrage and gratitude. On one hand, the person beside him had just saved his life. On the other, she, it, whatever it was, happened to be machine. Which to him, only meant one thing.

Skynet wasn't stopped.

Judgment Day was still coming.

'_So much for a normal life' _was his bitter thought at that moment.

His thoughts were cut short when he felt Cameron's hand reach over and grab his chin, forcing him to look at her. She looked into his eyes for a second before she released his chin, allowing him to sit back down as he rubbed his now sore jaw.

"No signs of brain trauma."

He glared at her.

"Brain trauma?!"

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before she returned her attention back onto the road. "You've been through a stressful endeavor where negative effects-"

"That's not what I meant! Who was that shooting at me back there? Further more, why was he shooting at me? My mother and I blew up Cyberdyne Systems five years ago. Judgment Day was stopped!"

"Not stopped. Only postponed."

Taking a sharp left, Cameron swerved onto the interstate, John wishing that he had remembered to put on his seatbelt when he entered the car.

"The unit sent to terminate you was a T-888 Series. A more advanced version of the T-800, it was created with the intention to replace all current T-800 units currently active. Their primary function is infiltration, given the neural networking to simulate human emotions and behaviors. With coltan based endoskeletons and superior flexibility, they are far superior to the titanium hyper alloy used in construction of previous models. The only series that are superior to it are the T-1000 and T-850's, depending on the situation with the latter."

Feeling his head spinning from the information he had just received, John couldn't come up with a logical remark short of, "What?"

Her mouth twitched slightly, almost as if she was trying to fight off a smile that wanted to form on her lips. "You wanted to know what series Cromartie was. I answered you."

"And how do you know that its name is Cromartie?"

She looked at him again, this time blankly.

"He said so."

Feeling stupid at the moment, John merely gave a small meek, "Oh." before falling silent once more.

After about five minutes had gone by, John slammed his hands on the dashboard, staring at the wide eyed Cameron as a feeling of dread crawled up his spine.

"I forgot about mom!"

* * *

Sarah didn't know what to think at this moment in time. Just when she made the decision for her son to have a normal life, to be just a regular fifteen year old boy, this had to happen.

A shooting. At John's school. In John's Chemistry class. With John as the intended target.

She was right after all.

No one is ever safe.

For the first time in her life, Sarah was wishing that she wasn't always right.

Taking the binoculars at her side, she looked at the school, noticing the police officers taking witness reports from the students that had witnessed the shooting.

'_I don't see Cameron though.'_

She frowned as the thought registered in her mind. Cameron wasn't her daughter, just a girl who met John the other day.

'_A girl who helped me realize how selfish and unfair I was being to John.'_

She shook her head in an attempt the get the thoughts out of her mind. She had more important things to worry about. Such as where her son was.

Before she even knew what was happening, she felt something solid ram into her, sending her flying into the air, landing a few feet from her previous position.

Groaning, Sarah attempted to stand only for something to push her back onto the ground, a calloused hand wrapped around her throat. "Sarah Connor?"

Looking up at her assailant, Sarah saw a man that appeared to be in his late twenties to early thirties staring down at her. When she didn't answer him, his grip on her throat tightened.

"Call to him."

Sarah knew immediately what this man was the minute those three words escaped his lips.

Choking from the lack of oxygen, Sarah growled, "I won't. You'll just have to kill me." Her bravado was then cut short as her cell phone rang.

Going through her pocket, the man took her phone out before he hit the talk icon, answering the line. "John?"

Sarah's eyes widened as the man, _machine_, mimicked her voice. She felt the tears start to burn her eyes as she heard John's voice on the other line, asking if she was okay.

"I'm fine John. Meet me back at the house. We'll need to move again." Hearing John say he'd be there, Cromartie finished the conversation saying, "I love you John." before attempting to hang up the phone.

Already fueled by a burning desire to rip the machine on top of her to pieces, Sarah was able to shout, "NO! JO-"

Already anticipating her outburst, Cromartie slammed Sarah back onto the ground, the back of her head hitting the desert floor hard, knocking her unconscious.

Picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder, he made his way to Sarah's Jeep before throwing her carelessly into the backseat, turning on the ignition before accelerating off towards the dirt paved road that would eventually lead to John.

* * *

Reese Residence; 1000 Hours: Red Valley, New Mexico…

* * *

Sarah gave an inaudibly groan as she felt herself being pushed onto a chair, that calloused hand from earlier still wrapped tightly around her throat.

She opened her eyes, her vision bleary as she tried in vain to sit up. The hand on her throat in response tightened, forcing her back down as she heard the distant sound of a car pulling into the driveway.

That was when the memories of the machine talking with her son came to mind. Unable to move, Sarah simply sat there, hoping against all odds that John actually heeded her teachings and wasn't about to walk in.

Her pleas went answered.

"John?"

Sarah cringed as the machine spoke in her voice again. And she knew at that moment that if she didn't do something, John was going to be shot.

He was going to be killed.

"Are you okay?"

Every fiber of her being was demanding that she screamed, that she warned John, to tell him to do what she trained him to do.

To run.

"Mom?"

That was all the machine needed.

Releasing the grip on her neck, it stood up, already raising its gun, aiming right at him. She wanted to run at that moment, to the false wall to grab her shotgun, to the machine to try and pry the Beretta away from him.

To John and tell him she loved him.

"John…"

Getting up, she was about to run to him when the machine grabbed her, throwing her back down on the chair.

And then it fired.

She watched in horror, a silent cry escaping her lips as her captor shot five consecutive bullets, all hitting her son before his body hit the floor, unmoving.

Lifeless. Dead.

"JOHN!!! NO!!!"

The machine's head jerked to the left, the only visible sign it gave at completing its mission before it walked to John's body, no doubt to check and make sure its target was truly dead.

"John!"

Sarah never believed in god. Even before the events of 1984, she had never held to her beliefs as a Christian, becoming more atheistic as time went on. Now however, she prayed, prayed as hard as she could at that moment, begging for the small chance that her son was alive.

She watched with baited breath as the machine bent down, forcing John's body onto his back, expecting to see his face, frozen. Dead.

"Neat trick. You like?"

Sarah could barely comprehend what was happening the moment those words escaped her dead son's lips. Or what should have been her dead son.

Instead her son, laying there on the ground was Cameron Phillips. Whom was shot five times. Who was now talking in John's voice.

Her prayers were answered.

But not in the way she expected.

Whatever the case, she would question the girl later. For the moment, she relished in the fact that her son was alive.

* * *

Cameron predicted after John had called his mother and commented on the 'I love you' she had made, Cameron realized something was wrong. Monitoring John's voice on playback, she noted elevated stress patterns in his voice. She then determined a 75% chance that was not Sarah Connor on the phone.

She told John her calculations.

Then he demanded that they rescue her.

Her mission priorities stated that by rescuing Sarah Connor, the danger John would be in will have increased by 30.27%.

She ignored it and made a u-turn.

The had arrived from what Cameron could estimate, a few minutes after Cromartie and Sarah arrival. This estimation was turned into belief when she did a reading on Sarah's Jeep.

Deciding that the danger was far too much for John, Cameron pulled a hooded sweater from the back of the truck before slipping it on, disguising her voice as John's before instructing John to wait in the truck for his own safety.

He did so, reluctantly.

Then she entered the house.

With the hood placed over her face and the darkness that the room was, Cameron was 92.7% certain that Cromartie was not able to get a visible scan of her face to identify John, she used her altered voice to call for Sarah.

She received a response instantly, her audio receptors matching the voice to that of Sarah's.

Walking into the living room now, she slowly made her way across the threshold, her sensors picking up Sarah and Cromartie both in the room.

That was when she felt the impact of five bullets hit her, bypassing her human skin and hitting the endoskeleton underneath.

Collapsing on the floor, she waited patiently for Cromartie to come and make sure 'John' was dead as programmed.

She was not disappointed.

As soon as Cromartie forced her body around, Cameron fought the grin that wanted to make its way across her lips. Instead she settled with saying, "Neat trick. You like?"

Cromartie tilted his head to the side, the only reaction it gave to the deception. That was all the time Cameron needed before she placed both her feet on Cromartie's chest, kicking him backwards.

Now it was time for the real fight to begin.

* * *

As soon as Cameron had said her piece, Sarah didn't miss the open opportunity that it left for her. Running to the false wall that was behind her, she ripped it off before grapping the SPAS-12 hidden inside it before she turned around, the barrel facing the Terminator that now had its eyes set on Cameron.

She pumped once then fired.

Twice.

Both shots hit the intended target, the first doing what she thought would be the most damage, the second merely bringing its attention back onto her.

Cameron took advantage of that.

* * *

As Sarah fired two shotgun blasts at Cromartie, Cameron did a quick scan, and concluded that a direct frontal assault would have little to no affect on Cromartie. With a more durable endoskeleton and actuator strength far superior to her own, Cromartie could easily push her assault back.

A hold would also prove ineffective as due to her small frame, would easily be overpowered by any larger sized Terminator unit.

With these her only available options, Cameron decided to do something that she had seen John do on several occasions in the future.

The only advantage she had was that her power cell was far more advanced then his, giving her slight edge in power.

She improvised.

Reaching forward and grabbing Cromartie's right leg and left shoulder, Cameron didn't show any reaction to him grabbing her arms in an attempt to stop her. Instead, she took him by surprise.

Lifting him up high in the air, she pivoted him upside-down before slamming him head first into the kitchen counter, destroying it.

Stunned, Cameron took the one second advantage Cromartie presented before grabbing his arm and flinging him across the room, colliding into the opposite wall.

Looking behind her, Cameron did another quick scan of the area, trying to find a weapon of sorts that could give her an advantage over her fallen opponent.

Walking into the remains of the kitchen, Cameron grabbed the refrigerator before lifting it above her head, the only sign that she was having trouble with the weight being the slight grimace that appeared on her face for a second before disappearing altogether.

Turning towards Sarah, she said, "John is outside in the Ford F-150 Pickup. I will be there momentarily."

Turning her attention back to Cromartie, who was now getting back up, Cameron walked towards him once again.

Cromartie, who had recovered from the unexpected attack he had gone through, noticed the refrigerator that was presently over Cameron's head, poised to strike him.

Assessing that the damage caused by such an attack would be extensive, he aimed his Beretta at Cameron's legs and started to fire. She gave no acknowledgement to the shots and continued to move, despite the slight twitch of her legs as each bullet forced her to re-coordinate her movements in order to accommodate the damage she sustained with each bullet wound.

Standing three feet away from him, now with her Beretta unloading the remaining bullets of his magazine on her torso, Cameron brought the household appliance down on his head, sending him through the floor to the basement below.

* * *

**Analyzing Damage…**

**32% Damage to T-888 (Cromartie) Endoskull. (Resulting Effect; Loss of Living Tissue Sheath).**

**CPU Damage; 12% To Neural Processing Integrity. Cause; penetration from exterior device into CPU port.**

**43% Damage to T-888 (Cromartie) Endoskeleton. (Resulting Effect; 15% Damage to Coltan Alloy Battle Chassis. 8% Damage to surrounding servo motors. 20 % Damage to hydraulic systems.)**

**Time Estimated for Reboot; 50 Seconds.**

**Recommended Action; TERMINATE.**

* * *

Frowning, Cameron walked through the remains of the refrigerator, bypassing planks of wood and food remains as she took a more human look at Cromartie.

With the living tissue surrounding the top and upper right of his face now missing, Cameron tilted her head to the side as Cromartie's single visible red eye glowed, showing that his CPU had initiated its reboot process.

Placing her right foot over his right hand and placing her left knee on his forearm, Cameron bent down before forcing his head to the side, noticing the a piece of the handle of the refrigerator door sticking through the back of his head. Ripping it out, Cameron noted a live electrical wire hanging near her. Grabbing it, she shoved it in the exact piece that she found the door handle, forcing Cromartie's system to shutdown and reverting back to the 120 second reboot count.

Lacking the proper tools to remove his chip, and with her audio receptors hearing the truck's engine starting, Cameron opted to leave Cromartie where he laid.

She had done what John had asked.

Sarah Connor was now safe.

And a threat had been temporarily incapacitated.

For the moment, John Connor was safe.

And that all that mattered.

* * *

As soon as Cameron, the Terminator, had told her where John was, Sarah didn't even hesitate to get in the car and leave her to deal with the other machine.

Running outside, shotgun still in hand, Sarah found the Ford F-150 as Cameron had said, parked outside in the driveway behind her Jeep Grand Waggoner. And getting out of the passenger seat was John.

Unharmed. Alive.

She would have cried in joy if the situation called for it.

Running up to him, she forced him around, needing to make sure that he was alive with her own two eyes.

"Mom?!"

Grabbing him roughly by his shirt, Sarah yelled, "Next time you do what your trained to do! You run!"

The surprise and hurt that flashed before his eyes made Sarah want to take back those for a fleeting second, but her resolve wouldn't allow her. She couldn't thank him, it'd just encourage this behavior of his. If it ever came down to him or her, she would want John to choice himself, to forget about her.

Because she wasn't important.

He was.

"Get in!"

Doing what his mother told him, John watched as she started the ignition before she started to reverse out of the driveway.

Panic flooded into him.

"Wait! Where's Cameron?"

That was when the gravity of situation hit her.

"She's a machine John. She's not important!"

Before John could fire off a retort, he saw Cameron walking out the remains of their house, new bullet wounds now present on her shirt which was now soaked in her blood as well as her pants.

"Cameron!"

Assenting to his call, Cameron ran the rest of the distance to the truck, climbing into the seat beside John before slamming the door shut.

"Did you stop him?"

"120 seconds and the system reboots."

Sarah's lips formed a thin line before she returned her gaze back onto the road. She didn't give a reply.

Cameron didn't expect one.

* * *

Abandoned Warehouse; 1600 Hours: Red Valley, New Mexico

* * *

Sarah watched patiently as the female Terminator finished removing the bullets from her torso, already uncomfortable with the fact that the machine was designed perfectly to match the appearance of a teenage girl.

To appear attractive to a male between any and all ages. Especially to teenage boys. Teenage boys like John.

But John wasn't like most teenage boys. He wasn't stupid. He knew what she was, even if she might have fooled him the past two days.

'_Not to mention fooling me.'_

Sarah killed that thought the moment it entered her mind. But the damage was already done. She glared at Cameron's bare back as she placed the pillars used to extract the bullets on the tray beside her.

She knew that she should have been grateful, happy that her son was alive and not lying dead on the floor of their old house. But she could bring herself to accept those feelings, not when her savior was a machine.

A machine that had so boldly kissed her son's cheek. In front of her.

She fought the desire to empty her stomach as the scene replayed in her mind.

"Why is this happing again?"

She turned her head towards John, now subtly ignoring the female cyborg that was now dressing her wounds.

"I don't know."

"We stopped it. You stopped it."

Regret filled her at that moment.

She didn't know how badly she wanted that to be true, no more then ever. She could only imagine how John must be feeling at the moment.

She wanted Judgment Day stopped for the sake of the three billion lives that would be lost. John wanted it to be stopped because it was the only truth he had known since birth.

"I guess I didn't."

She watched as John's face contorted between a look of anguish and anger. She didn't fault him. He had a right to be sad, to be angry. He better then anyone.

"But you can. You changed the future once already, just not enough. So you can do it again."

Hope. It was the one thing that Sarah had after Kyle's death. The thing she had found again when the T-800 had informed her that Myles Dyson was the creator of Skynet.

The very thing that was now shinning in John's eyes at that moment.

And it killed her to know that she didn't share that with him, not now, not with what had just happened, what they had just lived through.

"I…I don't know John."

"Mom…I cant keep running. I can't. Not anymore. I'm not a savior, some messiah. I'm not."

The desperation was there now, mingled with the hope. Along with a small flare of stubbornness. She would have smiled if the situation wasn't so grave.

'_Yeah. He's definitely my son.'_

"John, you don't know that,"

Probably the only thing that she truly was truthful about, that she truly believed. John didn't know if he could be the savior of humanity. He was fifteen, nearly sixteen years old. He was a teenager. Teenagers tend to judge themselves to harshly on their own failings and shortcomings.

'_But what teenager has the burden of being humanity's last hope?'_

She'd ignore her rational side for now.

"I know. I can't lead an army, I just can't. Maybe you can, but not me, never me. You have to stop it. Please."

"Judgment Day cannot be stopped. It is inevitable."

Sarah whirled her head back at the machine, Cameron, who was now wearing a long sleeved pink shirt, giving John a pointed look.

"I'm sorry John. It's the truth."

She turned back to John, and noted the devastation and hopeless look in his eyes.

She realized then, how much her son actually hated to be John Connor. Most people would jump at the chance to be legendary, to one day be an important figure, to one day be written in a history book and spoken about for many years to come.

But at what cost? What cost would a person pay to gain that kind of recognition? John had to sacrifice the lives two third of the humans in the world to gain that fame.

And nothing was worth a human life.

"…alright."

John looked at her, confusion masking his face, his usual green eyes misted from the tears he was obviously trying to hold back.

"Alright what?"

She gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'll stop it."

She turned her gaze back to Cameron, who was now directing her attention to her, her facial expression blank, though she was sure she didn't believe her.

"I'll stop it."

'_One way or another. I'll stop it.'_

* * *

John leaned against the trunk of the car, his eyes searching the darkening sky for answers he knew they didn't hold. In his hand was a half empty bag of chips. Lays, a generic brand.

It wasn't much, but it was better then nothing.

He glanced behind him and noticed his cyborg protector standing at the side of the truck to his right, gas muzzle in hand as she pumped the remaining fuel needed for the trip they were making to Los Angeles.

He frowned then at the thought of their current destination.

Los Angeles California. Where it all started. It would only be fitting that is where it would end as well.

Still, he knew Tarissa Dyson wasn't going to be happy seeing them again. Especially seeing his mother.

'_At least __I'll get to see Danny again. Wonder how he's doing?'_

Turning his attention back to Cameron, John felt his curiosity rise. Now that he was over the shock that Cameron was a cybernetic organism, her words not his, he wondered what she exactly was.

Uncle Bob was a T-800 Series, and as such, had the personality of a rock. Scratch that. A rock probably had more personality then he did. Though he had improved in the few days they traveled together, to the point where he could tell jokes, admittedly bad ones but jokes none the less, he was still emotionless.

"_I now know why you cry. But its something I can never do."_

His protectors famous last words still bought an unsettling feeling his stomach. He remembered a time where he would actually cry when he thought back to that time, wondering what would have happened if he truly had followed his orders to stay with him. For him not to go.

'_Mom probably would have turned him into scrap on her own.'_

He glanced at his protector one last time before he decided now was a good as time as any to ask his questions.

"What model are you? Are you new? You seem…I don't know, different." Cameron didn't give him a reply, focusing intently on the task of filling the gas tank before she turned her head towards him. "You apologized for lying to me about your father, about Kyle."

John frowned. What did this have to do with anything? "Yeah. So?"

She smiled at him.

"I apologize for lying to you. At school."

John didn't need to ask what she meant by that. He knew.

Turning his attention back to the bag of chips in his hand, John muttered, "Sure. Its alright. Its just the way your programmed. Didn't know why I actually thought that some hot girl wanted to hang out with the new kid."

While the last part he muttered was meant more for him, Cameron heard him. She frowned.

Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a chip before taking a bite, glancing at him, a neutral expression on her face. "To answer your question, yes, I am different."

Bending down so her lips brushed against his ears, Cameron whispered, "And you still owe me a study date John."

Standing up straighter, Cameron took an immense sense of pleasure at the flushed face John was now wearing, and the feeling only increased when she noted Sarah was standing 15ft away, no doubt witnessing the moment that had passed between the two.

After all, John was her responsibility.

And no one else's.

* * *

Home of Tarissa Dyson; 2000 Hours, Los Angeles, California…

* * *

John was right.

Tarissa wasn't happy that they had shown up on her doorstep. She was furious.

Her reaction was righteous in some respects, if not expected. Her husband was killed five years ago. She believed Sarah did it. And she hated her for it.

It was a much better alternative then her learning the truth. After all, hath no fury like a woman scorned.

And he prayed to whatever deity that existed that he/she have mercy on those SWAT team members who had killed her husband that night. Because he was certain she wouldn't.

"Did Miles tell anyone else about Skynet? Someone who showed an interest in what he was doing?"

Blunt and straight to the point. His mom never did like to beat around he bush.

Tarissa glared at her. "No. Nobody showed an interest in what was going on there other then a few government officials, all belonging to the Air Force. Nobody else except you."

John knew what that last part meant.

She was still hurting, still grieving.

"This Danny?"

Trying to clear the tension in the air. John noted wearily that she did that a lot.

For the first time that night, at least in their presence, Tarissa smiled.

"Yeah. His growing up to be a fine young man, just like his father."

"I see."

The meaning of that last statement didn't fly over his head as it did with Tarissa.

Skynet.

Hopefully his mother wouldn't add another Dyson onto her federal file.

Tarissa then glanced at him. "How are you doing John? You look to be growing into a fine young man."

John smiled vainly. "Great. I'm doing fine, thanks for asking."

Besides the fact that he had a killer robot after him and that Judgment Day was still on its way, he was fine. Perfectly fine.

"He's coming."

John snapped his head towards her, and noticed Cameron was staring out at the glass door that led to the outside.

And he barely made out the shadowed silhouette of a lone figure making its way towards them.

So much for seeing Danny again.

Tarissa rose to her feet shakily before she asked, her voice quivering in fear, "What is it? Another of those machines?"

Cameron didn't say anything.

Instead, his mom nodded her head, a grim look on her face.

Immediately Tarissa grabbed the keys on the counter beside her before handing them to Sarah.

"Go."

And John knew that she wasn't doing this for his mother's sake.

It was for his.

Because she believed in him.

If only he could share her sentiments.

* * *

Sarah quickly turned on the van as soon as her son and the machine where inside. When she heard the door slam on the passenger side, she floored it.

Ramming through the garage door and speeding by Cromartie, or John had identified him as anyway, Sarah raced down the driveway and onto the road, her head lowering instinctively as she heard gunfire being aimed at the vehicle.

'_And we left the guns in the truck. Great.'_

Next moment, she heard an explosion. Looking into the rearview mirror, she saw the remains of the Ford F-150 on fire, Cromartie nowhere to be seen.

She took a glance into the backseat, and noticed Cameron staring at the remains as well, a cell phone in hand.

"I planted a RAB inside the truck while at the warehouse. The Resistance uses them as a distraction method."

Sarah thought better to ask when she did this, deciding that she didn't need to know. Not at least until she figured out where to place it on the female cyborg anyway.

* * *

Security Trust of Los Angeles; 0900 Hours: Los Angeles, California

* * *

Taking a look at the bank, John read the stone engraving that was just ahead of them. "_This stone was set 1963 this day, March 7."_

Looking at Cameron's back, John asked quietly, "So you have an account here?"

"Safety deposit box."

Sarah stared at her, silently demanding an explanation. With Cameron completely ignoring her, Sarah gave an inaudible growl before she asked with a small hint of irritation in her voice, "When did you open it?"

"1963."

John looked at Cameron, surprised.

"You were sent back to 1963?"

Cameron turned her head back to John, giving him a secret smile before she said, "No."

John decided not to ponder what that smile meant, at least for the moment.

* * *

"Is that from the future?"

Even in their current situation, which in retrospect was starting to look bleaker and bleaker by the second, John found his protector's behavior fascinating and confusing.

She seemed so human at one minute, and then seemed so much more like a machine the next. And he noticed a pattern in her mood changes.

When it was just between the two of them, she started to act like the girl he had met at Crest View High School. Cameron Phillips. The hot girl who wanted to be friends with the new kid.

When around other people, particularly his mother, she acted like a machine, only speaking when spoken to, speaking when indirectly asked a question.

He felt the ghost of a smile grace his face when he noticed that during both of her personalities, she only spoke to him, actually making an effort in ignoring his mother and everyone else around them. And for whatever reason, it made him feel special.

Her last mood change had happened during their entrance into the bank when Cameron held up a Glock 17 to the bank receptionist, demanding the key to the vault. Her voice was cold and calculating, but loud enough for everyone in the bank to hear.

After giving the receptionist the instructions to lock them inside the vault, and giving a very subtle threat that she'd know if she didn't, she turned her head back to both himself and his mother.

After his mom had all but shouted at her for pulling a bank heist, Cameron gave her a hard look before she said rather bluntly, "Shut up."

Then she gave her undivided attention back to him before asking him tenderly if he was alright.

At the moment, he gave a rather hasty nod, wondering what was going on at the time. He snapped out of his mental recollection when said cyborg walked right by him, his eyes following her with every step she took.

Placing the pieces she had taken from the vault onto the table in the center of the room before she spoke. "Can't bring anything though when you come. Not weapons, not clothing. Nothing. You send someone back to build it."

John looked at her in confusion and fascination. "You sent someone back to build this place?"

Starting to assemble the pieces, Cameron nodded. "The Engineer. He got a job here, building the vault. This way, we'd always have a way home."

She offered John a tentative smile. "We'll discuss this later in detail."

John nodded, his own smile coming across his face.

* * *

Sarah's curiosity was now at its peak. What on earth was this machine taking about? A way home? Images of a future torn by nuclear weapons, machines killing innocent human beings, flashed before her eyes.

Her teeth clenched as her jaw tightened. She knew what home she was talking about.

Her anger didn't last long though, as images of what had happened between the machine and her son at the gas station came to mind What machine could eat food? Fool not only her son, but herself into thinking that she was a normal teenage girl. A fellow human. And Sarah wasn't one to let her questions go unanswered, especially since she let her anger and pride stop her from asking these very same questions beforehand.

"What year are you from?"

Cameron didn't acknowledge that she heard the question, by all appearances looking as if all her attention was on the weapon she was constructing.

But Sarah knew better then that.

"2027."

'That was one answer. And it only brought more questions.

"How long have you been looking for us?"

Again, Cameron didn't seem to pay her any attention, but she answered none the less. "73 days, 12 hours, 34 minutes, and 19 seconds."

Sarah was surprised. _'They'll find you. That's all they do.' _Kyle's message was blunt and clear at the time as it was now. They will find you, no matter what. It was what they were created for, programmed for. And the fact that it had taken her 73 days to find them, when about sixty of those days were spent in one location, created an unsettling feeling in her stomach.

If John had truly sent this machine back in time, shouldn't he have told it where and when to look for them? The obvious answer was yes. And what she was hearing only made her worries grow.

"And the war?"

That was when Cameron actually stopped working, her face blank and expressionless, her eyes unwavering, unblinking. "Skynet missile defense system goes online April 19, 2011. Declares war on mankind and triggers a nuclear apocalypse two days later."

She resumed working again, the banging on the vault door getting louder and more consistent.

"The doors won't hold for long."

Sarah resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the machine before her. Nothing could hold them for long. She learned that first hand.

"Miles Dyson?" She knew that her line of questioning should really be put to rest for the moment, but she couldn't bring herself to stop, not when she was so close to the answer she had pondered for so five years.

"No. Someone else." Just a bit more pushing and she'd finally get her answer to the question that burned in her throat and mind.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

Glaring at the cyborg, Sarah asked hotly, "You don't know who builds the computer that blows up the world?"

"No. I wasn't sent here for that. No one was."

That last statement froze her.

'_No one…'_

She shook her head, forcibly removing those last words from her mind. No, she promised John, she promised herself, Kyle that she'd stop it. That in the end, Judgment Day, the apocalypse, would just end up being one bad dream. A nightmare.

She glared at her. _It._

"I don't believe that. I don't."

She turned her gaze towards her. Brown eyes meet green, and for a moment, Sarah thought she saw an emotion, anger, flash in those eyes.

"My concern is not with you. Its with John. Always John. Never you. Remember that."

For some reason, Sarah felt as if she was threatened.

And she didn't like it one bit.

Before she could give an angry retort, they heard the another bang on the door, followed by the unmistakably sound of metal being bent.

Turning her head towards the vault door, Sarah felt her blood run cold at the sight of the T-888, bending the door backwards as if it were rubber.

"We have to go."

Reaching towards the computer stationed in the center of the vault, Cameron activated the console before typing in coordinates. Once she finished, the room started to hum with energy, the four walls on each side of the vault starting to crackle lightning as a bright blue light formed a circle above them in the center of the room.

Surprised and worried at what was happening, Sarah shouted, "What have you done?!"

"You want to find Skynet? You want to stop it? This is the way."

With the room now falling apart with a transparent sphere now encircling the three of them, and Cromartie now almost inside the room, Sarah had little choice in what was about to happen.

"You said you don't know who builds it, that you weren't sent back to stop it."

Cameron moved the direction of her eyes towards Cromartie, who was now more then halfway into the vault.

Stepping forward as the sphere started to take a more solid shape, Cameron aimed the plasma carbine at Cromartie who was now inside the vault and heading towards them.

"I lied."

Pulling the trigger, Cameron fired just as the sphere consumed them and the entire vault in a flash of light, destroying the vault and entire bank in a instant.

Neither John, Sarah, or Cameron would be seen or heard from until September 21st, 2007.

* * *

**Terminator Units/Classes:**

**T-888 Series; Model (Cromartie):**

**Advanced T-850 Terminator Unit. Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; Infiltration.**

**Primary Mission Objective; TERMINATE JOHN CONNOR.**

**TOK-715 Series; Model (Cameron Phillips):**

**Unknown Terminator Unit. Mass Production; Unknown. First Series Model In Field. Primary Function; Infiltration. Secondary Function; Termination.**

**Primary Mission Objective; PROTECT JOHN CONNOR.**

**Equipment/Weaponry:**

**TDE (Time Displacement Equipment):**

**A machine which allows living tissue and mimetic polyalloy to be sent back and forward in time. Errors can occur regarding the time/place the subject wishes to arrive at. Currently in use by both Skynet and the Resistance.**

**RAB (Remote Activated Bomb):**

**A makeshift bomb crafted for distractions and triggered via a remote control. Used often by the Resistance.**

**SPAS-12 Shotgun:**

**Cartridge- 12 Gauge, 2 ¾****"**

**Weight- 9.7 lbs (4.4 kg)**

**Length (Stock Extended)- 41in (1041 mm)**

**Rate of Fire (ROF)- 4 rounds/sec (Auto). One round per trigger pull.**

**Range- Effective; 150 ft.**

**Max; 300 ft.**

**Capacity- 8+1 round internal tube magazine.**

**Method of Firing; Pump or Gas-Actuated. (Auto)**

**Beretta 92:**

**Weight- 950 g**

**Overall Length- 217mm**

**Barrel Length- 125mm**

**Caliber- 9x19mm Luger Parabellum**

**Rate Of Fire- Short-Recoil, locked breech**

**Capacity- 15-round detachable magazine box**

**Method Of Firing- Double Action Trigger**

**Glock 17:**

**Weight- 625g/22.04oz**

**Overall Length- 138mm/7.32****"**

**Barell Length- 114mm/4.49****"**

**Rate Of Fire- one round per trigger pull.**

**Line of Sight- 165mm/6.49****"**

**Capacity- Standard/Optional, 17/19 detachable magazine box**

**Method of Firing- Safe Action Trigger System (Rapid Fire)**

* * *

**//-/Author's Note/-//**

**Chapter four is up which now ends the whole canon rewrite. (Also happens to be the longest chapter so far!) The remainder of the story will be more focused on the changes that are going to take place concerning Cameron and the instructions future John has given her, with some surprise guests here and there. However, certain events and occurrences will be mentioned/played out as in the canon, as they will be needed for the further development of the story. For what they are, you'll just have to wait and see. :p**

**On a separate note, this chapter shows that Cameron, though she has gotten close to John and accomplished what her infiltration program was required for, stills acts human. This is something that is going to be a constant, and she will only continue to develop in her emotions which will be explained in the next chapter.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed the fourth chapter. Remember to review and tell me what you think. Criticism as always is welcomed.**


	5. A New Beginning

Summary: Takes place after the Season Finale Episode, _"Born to Run." _My own thoughts on the Terminator Series and the concept of John Connor. Will be a combination of my own storyline and that of the Sarah Connor Chronicles.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles is owned by Fox Productions.**

**Rating T- For Language and Violence. Rating Subjected to Change.**

* * *

Chapter 5- A New Beginning

* * *

"_I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."_

_Gospel of John. Chapter 8; Verse 12._

* * *

It was odd on how much can change in a single day. How one little event can change the course of history. This is the thought that Cameron Phillips had drawn after a careful analysis of the prior events she had the Connor's had recently gone through.

Following their jump to September 21st, 2007, which landed them in the middle of Interstate 105, Cameron had gone off to the remains of the Los Angeles Security Trust Bank, which was now converted into a junk yard. She ignored Sarah's question of where they were, only pointing at a electric sign further down the highway, blaring their current date.

"Same where. Different when."

She had then acquired clothing and a vehicle for them. After dumping the unconscious intoxicated males onto the side of the highway, Cameron returned to the Connor's before driving into the city, their new location already in mind.

Arriving outside a luxury hotel, Cameron stepped out before walking inside, Sarah and John following, the former looking on the verge of anger and the latter seeming confused.

She would cure him of that soon.

Appearing at the front desk, she put on a sweet smile before she had explained that her father had made a reservation for three under the name 'Phillips.'

After doubling checking their records, and finding that a Robert Phillips had called earlier in the day asking for reservation for their penthouse suite, with instructions that it was meant only for one Cameron Phillips and guests, they gave her the key and allowed her in, the payment already prearranged.

Nodding her head and giving another smile, Cameron thanked the receptionist before gesturing for John and Sarah to follow, bewildered looks on their faces.

And that was where Cameron Phillips was now currently. In the penthouse suite, eyes glued to the glass window as she overlooked the city, her CPU running a diagnostic test on her systems.

Cameron had recommended that both the Connors turn in for the night, her scanners telling her that both had suffered through a sever increase in both levels of anxiety and stress. John had heeded her words and had turned in. Sarah had not.

She was currently sitting on the leather couch, eyes narrowed into a glare that was directed at her, the 50" LCD Plasma TV on, the local news channel reporting the incident in the highway for a little more then two hours now.

A photo of Sarah had been taken by a teenage boy with a camera phone, which was now blaring on the television screen as the news reporter was going into detail at the identity of the 'Sarah Connor' doppelganger and the real Sarah's crimes and eventual death.

It would blow over within a week. Of that she was certain.

"Alright Tin Man. I think its time you start coming clean with what the fuck is going on here."

Sarah swore. That meant she was aggravated. Aggravated at her. She choice to ignore her.

"Don't act like you can't hear me! Now answer me!"

Cameron glanced at her through the reflection of the window, allowing her eyes to glow blue for two seconds, long enough for Sarah to notice.

She evidently did when her stress levels increased once more, a hint of perspiration now developing along her brow.

"I have a name. And its not Tin Man."

The statement seemed to confuse her for a moment before Sarah's eyes hardened, her teeth clenching as her jaw locked itself. As expected, she didn't take well to her response.

"What the hell is going on her…Cameron."

She decided to appease to her by calling her by her name. A move that meant she swallowed her pride for the moment in exchange for answers.

Answers Cameron was instructed not to give to her.

"We are in a hotel, currently at 0200 hours, waiting for the sun to rise."

Cameron concluded that if Sarah had a gun handy, she probably would have shot her.

"I know that! Why are we here though? How did you know that there was a room open here under your name? Who set this room up, and why the hell are we here in the first place?!"

Her volume had steadily been increasing during her line of questioning, and Cameron feared that if she had got any louder, she'd rouse John from his sleep.

And John was a priority.

She was not.

Whirling around to face her, Cameron noted how Sarah's posture changed almost immediately, going rigid as she appeared to be locked in a never ending cycle of fear.

"I will restate what I said at the bank. My concern is not with you. Its with John. Always John. Never you. Remember that."

The meaning behind that was the same then as it was now. Her concern was John. If Sarah jeopardized that in anyway, she'd dispose of her. Permanently.

In reply, Sarah seemed ready to shot her mouth off again, but wisely decided to remain quiet. Standing up, Sarah went to the room John was currently occupying, stopping as she was halfway into the doorway.

"Just because John trusts you doesn't mean I don't."

"Just because John _trusted _you, don't think I will."

Her reply was short, curt, and it speared Sarah through the heart. John trusted her. Past tense. That meant whatever future this cyborg was from, John had stopped trusting her.

And Cameron knew that alone was enough to shatter the thirty three year old female.

"I'll leave you with John now."

Moving away from the window, Cameron left the suite, only pausing after she closed the door in order to determine whether or not Sarah went inside John's room or not.

She did. And that made Cameron smile.

For now, she hoped that Sarah would try and make a change for her and John's relationship. If only just for her sake.

After all, John was not only the light of her world, he was light of Sarah's world as well. Even if she would never admit it.

* * *

Sarah closed the door to John's room before collapsing against it, sliding down slowly as tears started to leak from her eyes.

She had promised herself that she wouldn't cry, not after Kyle was killed in that factory by the T-800. She had broken that promise once inside the home of Miles Dyson, unable to bring herself to take another human life. And now she was breaking it for a second time.

The thought, no, _fact_ that her son had stopped trusting her, will stop trusting her sometime in the future, seemed to make everything she had ever done for him to go up in smoke.

Her greatest fear and nightmare had come true.

John didn't trust her. That meant that he hated her. And she knew that she couldn't live with herself anymore if that was the truth.

It actually made the thought, concept of living unbearable.

Which is why she here now, in his room, watching him sleep. She always liked watching him sleep. It brought her a sense of peace, serenity. It helped ache the pain she felt day in and day out when she recalled the time she spent in the mental hospital, how she had missed on three years of John's life. Three years where John had been moved from home to home, never staying in one place, being unappreciated for his talents, his gifts, the uniqueness that made him who he was.

She wasn't much better in that regard.

No matter how good he was, it was always the same with her. Not good enough. How do expect to save mankind if you can't follow a simple order. Run at the first sign of danger. Don't look back. Don't form attachments. Stay under the radar.

She had subjected him to a life worse then death. She had tried to make him think that his only purpose in the world was to stop Skynet. That he was born simply to fight, to run, and one day die. To one day be known as General John Connor, nothing more, nothing less.

And it came as no surprise that he hated her. She hated herself.

Maybe that was the reason why he seemed so willing to accept the Terminators that were sent back to protect him. Because they wouldn't leave him, die on him, get angry with him, not unless he told them to. And they loved him.

The very thought made Sarah want to empty her stomach again.

A machine, love? Impossible. But it was there. They should the very definition of what love was, and it sickened her.

They would die for John. They would put themselves in harms way to protect him. They would take his words and value them as if it were the greatest treasure in the world. He was their entire world, their center of the universe. Without him, life had no purpose, no meaning.

Even if it was what they were programmed for, even if it wasn't a true form of love, John took it and held onto it with every fiber of his being. And Sarah now understood why now.

Because he thought that this was going to be the closest thing he'd get to it.

That was why he had asked the T-800 to stay with him before she lowered it into the vat of molten metal. He knew that it was machine, never truly capable of feeling real emotions like human's could.

And he didn't care.

Because to be John Connor meant that you had no one to love you.

And Sarah didn't bother to stop the sob that escaped her throat at the thought. It would be her fault. All her fault. John growing an attachment to a machine was all her fault.

And it was too late to change that.

But it wasn't too late to prove that she did love him. Love him in the way a child was meant to be loved. Nurturing, caring, supportive. Not disciplined, not controlled, not objectified.

Standing to her feet shakily, she moved to John's bed before lowering herself beside him. She looked at his face, and noticed how peaceful he looked asleep. It brought a warm smile to her face.

Reaching out a hand, she moved a strand of John's hair from his face, noticing how much he looked like his father.

Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him against her, gently rousing him from his sleep.

"Mom?"

The tiredness was still present in his voice, and it made her smile.

Placing her chin on top of his head, she murmured, "Go back to sleep John. Its late."

John yawned in response before he asked softly, "You okay mom?"

No was what she wanted to say, but she knew that John would just get worried and stress on it. "Yes, I'm fine."

Staying quiet for what seemed like hours, Sarah asked the question that she wanted, needed to ask him. "John? Do you love me?"

She was unable to see John's reaction to the question, but the quick intake of breath told her that of all the things he had probably expected her to ask, this wasn't one of them.

"Of course I love you, you're my mom. Why do you need to ask?"

The answer should have appeased her, but it didn't.

"_You're my mom." _Did that mean that John felt he had to love her out of obligation? Because she carried him for nine months, because she gave birth to him?

She hoped that the answer was no.

"Do you love me because I'm just your mother? Because if that's the case John, I'm not a very good one. I taught you who to use a gun when you should have been learning how to play baseball. I left you in the jungle for a whole day on your own! I destroyed any chance that you had for a happy normal life! I-"

Before she could continue, John wrapped his arms around her, giving her a reassuring squeeze before he whispered, "I know. And I wish everyday that I was given those things, had those happy moments that a child is meant to have. But if I had to give you up for those, I'd rather have been stuck in that jungle a whole year then not have you. You're my mother, and maybe I don't say it enough, but I know that you tried. I can't ask for anything more then that. I love you mom, and I mean it. Nothing will ever change that."

The tears in her eyes glistened in the moonlight, a feeling of pure euphoric happiness engulfing her, warming her entire being.

"I love you John. I know that I don't say it enough, but I love you. More then anything else in the world. You're my whole reason for living, the light that guides me in the dark. Savior of mankind or not, I will never stop loving you and never stop being proud of you."

She didn't know what effect her words had on him, and at this moment, Sarah didn't care. They were together and alive. And that was all that mattered.

* * *

When John felt someone brushing their hand through his hair, John had the fleeting image of his mother doing the same thing when he was four. He never admitted, but it was his most treasured and favored memory. It was one of the few times his mother ever showed her nurturing side, showed the love that was between a mother and their child.

And he relished in the memory, bathed in it. The memory was probably the one thing that made him so reluctant to embracing each and every foster parent that had taken him in. No matter how good their intentions, or how hard they tried, moments like that would never, could never be recreated. Not without his mother.

That was why he had been so adamant on rescuing her when Uncle Bob had told him that the T-1000 was going to find her and kill her.

And that was a secret he planned on taking with him to the grave, whether it'd be tomorrow or thirty years in the future.

As he felt the same person wrapping him in a hug, he knew instantly that it was his mother.

"Mom?"

His voice was scratchy and hoarse, showing that his body was still in a slight state of sleep.

He felt his mother place her chin on top of his head before she murmured quietly, "Go back to sleep John. Its late."

A fair and obvious observation, but at that moment, John didn't feel tired at all. But the yawn that escaped his throat contradicted that assessment.

Deciding to ignore his mother request, he asked, "You okay mom?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

She was lying. He could tell. She could lie to just about anybody, but not him. She was his mother, and he knew every little quirk, glance, every little movement that meant that she was either uncomfortable or anxious.

But like every other time, John didn't comment on it.

After what seemed to be a long period of silence, his mom shifted a little bit before she asked, "John? Do you love me?"

He quickly sucked in his breath at the question.

Why would she ask him that? He half expected her to give him a lecture about Cameron seeing as they didn't seem to be getting along very well. But, she, his mother asking this question, meant that she had some sort of doubt regarding whether or not he still loved her, and looking back on the past couple of days, realized he hadn't really done anything to soothe her worries.

"Of course I love you, you're my mom. Why do you ask?"

She didn't give an immediate reply, and John was afraid that he had something wrong.

"Do you love me because I'm just your mother? Because if that's the case John, I'm not a very good one. I taught you who to use a gun when you should have been learning how to play baseball. I left you in the jungle for a whole day on your own! I destroyed any chance that you had for a happy normal life! I-"

John, hearing enough of his mother beating herself about her own failings, wrapped his arms tightly around her, giving her an awkward squeeze before he decided to speak.

"I know. And I wish everyday that I was given those things, had those happy moments that a child is meant to have. But if I had to give you up for those, I'd rather have been stuck in that jungle a whole year then not have you. You're my mother, and maybe I don't say it enough, but I know that you tried. I can't ask for anything more then that. I love you mom, and I mean it. Nothing will ever change that."

And John meant every word he said.

Though he couldn't see her face, John was able to deduce from his mother's labored breathing and small bit of wetness that he felt falling on his head, that she was crying.

For the first time since the incident in Miles Dyson's house, his mother was letting out her emotions. And it brought a small smile to his face.

The smile only grew when his mother brought him further into her bosom, tightening the embrace that they were currently sharing.

"I love you John. I know that I don't say it enough, but I love you. More then anything else in the world. You're my whole reason for living, the light that guides me in the dark. Savior of mankind or not, I will never stop loving you and never stop being proud of you."

The emotion, her voice was thick with the love and truth of her words. And it made his eyes water.

Now he was certain, more then certain, that he was ready to face the future. As long as he had Cameron and his mother by his side, he would be fine.

That he would always be home.

* * *

Home of Robert Phillips: 0300 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Cameron stood outside the small luxurious house, waiting patiently for her 'father' to answer the door. It had been approximately five years, twenty-five days, fourteen hours, twenty-two minutes, and fifty-five seconds since she had last seen him. Fourteen years if she counted the time jump.

And she was absolutely ecstatic at the thought of seeing him after so long. And she knew that John would be happy as well once he met him. Sarah's reaction would be less then welcomed, though her reasons would be understandably.

Though that didn't mean that she had to like them.

She snapped out of her thoughts when the door opened, revealing the person she had wanted to see again the most, second only to John.

Smiling, Cameron went up and gave the man a hug, a small smile playing on her lips.

With a smirk appearing on his face, the man returned the hug awkwardly before he pushed her back, holding Cameron at arms length.

That was when Cameron took a good look at him. Short brown hair, hardened features, large muscles, and that ever present obnoxious smirk of his that he had picked up back in '94.

Using her father's own immortal words, Cameron said with the biggest grin on her face, "I'm back."

* * *

**Terminator Units/Classes:**

**TOK-715 Model (Cameron Phillips):**

**Unknown Terminator Unit. Mass Production; Unknown. First Series Model In Field. Primary Function; Infiltration. Secondary Function; Termination.**

**Primary Mission Objective; PROTECT JOHN CONNOR. (In Progress)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; Unknown. (Complete)**

**Third Mission Objective; Unknown. (Complete)**

**Fourth Mission Objective; Unknown. (Complete)**

**Fifth Mission Objective; Unknown. (In Progress)**

**Equipment/Weaponry:**** (N/A)**

* * *

**//-/Author Note/-//**

**Fifth chapter is finally up, and just before Spring Break is officially over too. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and the surprise guest that has made an appearance. One I'm sure you all should know and remember. Also a little interaction between mother and son with some mother vs. cybernetic organism dialogue.**

**Anyway, remember to review and tell me what you think so far. Also, I have decided that I am going to make this a three-part series. This story is actually going to end around the time of the "Vick's Chip" Episode, which means there is going to be somewhere between four to six chapters before part 1 of the "What Should Have Been" Series will be complete.**

**Other then that, I just want to remind you that criticism is welcome and that I should have the next chapter up by Thursday, the latest Friday.**

**Until then! :P**


	6. Allies, New and Old

* * *

Summary: Takes place after the Season Finale Episode, _"Born to Run." _My own thoughts on the Terminator Series and the concept of John Connor. Will be a combination of my own storyline and that of the Sarah Connor Chronicles.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles is owned by Fox Productions.**

**Rating T- For Language and Violence. Rating Subjected to Change.**

* * *

Chapter 6- Allies, New and Old

* * *

Sheraton Hotel: 09:00 Hours; Los Angeles, California

* * *

Waking to the rays of sunlight that penetrated her eyes, Sarah gave a small inaudible groan before she opened her eyes, her vision blearily and unfocused. Sitting up, slightly, she let herself get familiar with her surroundings before she tried to remember what had happened the previous night.

Her answer came in the form of a groan from beside her.

Smiling, Sarah quietly slipped out of the mattress as not to disturb John, whom was still in a deep slumber.

Stepping out of the room, Sarah was about to make her way to the bathroom when the scent of something cooking caught her attention.

With her eyes narrowing suspiciously, Sarah made her way to the kitchen across the penthouse, not bothering to hide her surprise at what she saw upon her arrival.

Standing at the electronic stove with nothing but an overly large t-shirt and an apron, Cameron continued with her task of cooking breakfast, completely unaware, or possibly just ignoring Sarah's presence.

"Breakfast will be ready in approximately two minutes thirty-five seconds. You may take a seat until then."

Not seeing anything else to do, and remembering the discussion that the two of them had the previous night, Sarah decided not to argue and do as she was told, at least for the moment.

After sitting, Sarah watched Cameron with a small level of concealed malice as the cyborg laid the food she had cooked in three plates before sitting them on the table, on in front of Sarah and the other two on either side of her.

"John is still asleep?"

At Sarah's curt nod, Cameron moved her gaze across the hall and towards John's room.

"I see."

That was when Sarah decided to look down at the plate of food in front of her. What her meal consisted of could only have been described as the perfect breakfast. Scrambled eggs, three bacon strips, two pieces of sausages, French toast, and a side dish of pancakes. All in perfect order and placed on the plate with accurate precision.

"You should eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

Sarah resisted the urge to snort, instead asking rhetorically, "And where did you get that notion from?"

"John."

Sarah didn't respond to that. She didn't know how.

"I took the liberty of going clothes shopping while you and John were sleeping. The clothes I selected for you are placed inside the second bedroom down the hall. I believe that they are the appropriate sizes."

Instead of answering her, Sarah settled for grabbing the fork on the placement before she started to eat. Whether or not the food was made from a Terminator or not, it had been a while since she had a decent meal.

And she begrudgingly admitted silently to herself that it actually didn't taste that bad. Much better then her cooking.

'_I'm actually admitting that my cooking is bad. In comparison with a machine.'_

She paused at that thought. The usual animosity she felt in her system whenever she thought of a Terminator or Skynet was surprisingly missing.

And it didn't really bother her. Machine or not, Sarah was certain about two things that they both had in common.

Firstly, Cameron like her would die for John. Secondly, even if she didn't want to admit it, they were both important to John. And if she had to share John with the female cyborg in order to stay in his good graces, then so be it.

There was no fate but what we make. That quote held true when she was able to postpone Judgment Day. Hearing that John stopped trusting her, maybe even stopped loving her at some point, made her want to change that as well. Even if it meant that she had to shallow her damn pride.

She snorted a bit as a mirthlessly giggle escaped her throat.

Skynet sent bulky, powerful, killing machines meant to appear both intimidating and cruel in their methods in completing their mission.

What it would really should have done was just create a Terminator similar to Cameron and sent that back instead. Who honestly would suspect that a girl that looked no older then sixteen would and could snap your neck in less then a second?

Casting a glance at the female in question, Sarah gave a strained smile.

"John said that you were different the other day, back in 1999. And you said yes."

"Yes. I am different."

"How different? You never really explained."

Cameron only glanced at her for s short moment before making her way back to the stove, preparing another plate.

Deciding to press the issue harder, Sarah growled lowly while not trying to seem intimidating, "Answer me. And stop ignoring me!"

"I'm not authorized to respond to that inquiry."

Narrowing her eyes, Sarah merely asked, "Why not?"

Turning her eyes back to her, Cameron had a rueful smile on her face before she whispered, "Because you won't like the answer."

Sarah decided to follow her earlier thoughts and keep her silence and finish eating. After all, today was going to be busy, that much she was certain of.

* * *

Sheraton Hotel, Underground Parking Garage: 10:00 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

John glanced anxiously at his mother and protector as they entered the underground parking garage of the Sheraton they were staying at.

While missing the whole discussion that both his protector and mother had, John was able to wake up early enough to enjoy Cameron's breakfast, which even though he was reluctant to admit it, was much better then his mother's.

The reason for his reluctant admittance had to do with said mother. Though she didn't seem to have a problem with John's compliments, he saw the hurt flash before her eyes.

And John didn't feel comfortable with the fact that his mother was hurt, especially because of him. But he couldn't deny that Cameron did good work, both in and outside the kitchen.

Once he had finished eating, Cameron had brought him and Sarah a separate bag of clothing. There were only two outfits total in the bags, the reasoning being that since they didn't have a permanent place to stay, it would be a waste to buy a vast amount of clothing.

So John bit back his complaining for having to go shopping later and settled for showing his appreciation by dressing in the clothes Cameron had bought him.

Neither John or Sarah asked where she had gotten the money, assuming that she indeed did pay for these.

John's outfit consisted of a gray DKNY Jeans Untamed Truth long-sleeved shirt with a Marc Ecko Cut & Sew Wax Jacket placed over it. For pants, he wore a pair of Levi's® 514 straight jeans with a pair of Nike Men's Air Monarch 3 sneakers colored between white, black, and red.

His mother however, was dressed in a black crochet trim cami with a dark gray cropped denim jacket over it. For pants, she wore a pair of Clavin Klein lean boot pocket jeans, and a pair of Rockport leather boots.

Cameron had forgone the look he had seen her wear in 1999, and instead had gone with the typical Terminator outfit. She had adorned a purple V-neck tank top with a Ladies Vented Hybrid Leather Jacket over it. For pants, she had a pair of Clavin Klein stretch flare jeans, and a pair of Kenneth Cole Reaction boots, black, for boots. She had on top of her head a pair of Ray-Ban Classic Aviator Sunglasses.

"So what are we doing today?"

Sarah spared her son a glance before following after the female cyborg in front of them, whom was leading them to the vehicle she had acquired the other night.

She had to remember to tell the machine to get rid of it, seeing as its been over twenty-four hours since they had 'borrowed' it, and it was probably declared stolen by the owner now.

"To a safe house. Apparently you sent other Resistance Fighters here to get us some new Id's and money. After that, we go house hunting."

Before anything else could be said, Cameron grabbed hold of both Sarah and John before pulling them to the ground as a the sound of gunfire rained down on them, shattering the windows of several cars around them.

Panicking, John yelled, "What the hell was that?!"

Before Cameron could answer, Sarah grabbed her by the collar of her shirt before pulling her face towards her, her green eyes narrowed in anger.

"I thought you said that we were safe!"

She merely cocked her head to the side, an expression of sheer innocence now radiating on her face.

"No one is ever safe."

Sarah wasn't sure if she wanted to strangle the female cyborg or nod her agreement.

She didn't get the chance to do either as another hail of gunfire shot towards their direction, this time even louder, meaning that whomever was firing at them was getting closer.

"A T-888 Series. Model is unknown. Visible weaponry consists of a Colt M4."

Both Sarah and John winced at the mention of the type of weapon that the Terminator had. Unless they had a M-79 or a Barrett M82A1, they were screwed,

"Can you take him?"

Reaching into her back pocket, Cameron pulled out her Glock 17 that she had acquired the other night and merely replied with, "This weapon is insufficient."

Sarah's lips formed a thin line. John just made a small audible gulp.

Then they heard the sound of a magazine clip being unloaded.

And Cameron immediately seized the opportunity.

Raising to her feet, she aimed her Glock before unloading the entire magazine into the approaching terminator's skull, removing layers of skin from its endoskull.

Taking a chance, John lifted his head over the trunk area of the car, getting a quick look at the appearance of his newest assailant. Shaven head, a small amount of facial hair, and with the patches of his metal interior now shinning from his open wounds, the terminator completely ignored him as he unloaded another magazine, this time towards Cameron.

Dropping her gun and raising her arms, Cameron gave an inaudible grunt as she felt the bullets penetrate her arms and stomach, already trying to formulate a plan of action.

"Sarah, take John and run. Go. Now!"

Not being needed to be told twice, Sarah reached and grabbed the discarded Glock before reloading it. Following that, she quickly crawled towards John as Cameron stepped away from the car, heading right for the machine.

Reaching her son, she forced him, staring into his green eyes with her own.

"We have to go now John!"

"But Cameron…she's…"

"She can handle herself John. We have to leave, so come on!"

Allowing her to pull him up, John ran alongside his mother, attempting to block out the sound of the crashing and shots being fired from the two terminators behind him.

He stopped in his tracks however, when he heard a loud cry of surprise and pain that sound feminine. _'Cameron!'_

Whipping his head around, John watched in horror as the T-888 had Cameron on the ground, its left foot pressing on her back, holding her in place.

It then lifted its gun and reloaded it before placing the barrel behind Cameron's head, a single centimeter the only amount of distance between the two.

As soon as that machine pulled the trigger, there was a huge chance that Cameron was going to be killed.

And the thought of her dying to save him was what gave him the courage to say the next words that escaped his mouth.

"HEY! ITS ME! JOHN CONNOR!"

John watched in horror as the Terminator looked at him for a second before lifting the gun in hand, aiming at his head.

Already pushing his mother to the side, John closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the pain and death to claim him.

If he couldn't live with Cameron at his side, then he'd rather not live at all.

Then he heard a voice that he thought he'd ever hear again.

"GET DOWN!"

Immediately dropping to his stomach, John raised his hands over his head as he heard the blasts of automatic bullets sailing over his head, making contact with the machine that was in front of him, based off of the loud metallic clinks that he heard following the gunshots.

Taking a look behind him, John's breath caught in his throat.

It was Uncle Bob.

Walking up to him, Bob extended his hand to John, who was still in a state of shock and disbelief.

"Come with me if you want to live."

And for the second time in his life, John grasped his hand.

Pulling him to his feet, the T-800 Unit looked at for barely a second, no doubt doing a face recognition before he pushed him behind him, forcing him into the arms of his mother whom was looking at the new arrival with shock in her eyes.

Turning his head to the side and looking at them from the corner of his eyes, he yelled, "RUN!"

Though he didn't want too, John knew that he would only serve as a distraction.

Pushing his mother arms off of him, he glared at the terminator's back for a three seconds before his now hoarse voice growled, "Don't die on me again."

John could have sworn that he say the machine's mouth twitch, almost as if he tried to smile before stopping himself.

"I'll be back."

Nodding his head, John turned on his heel before he ran out of the parking lot, Sarah and Cameron, whom had taken the opportunity to stand up and join them, hot on his trail.

John couldn't let the smirk that had graced his face disappear at that moment.

He would be back. He always came back.

* * *

As soon as John, Sarah, and Cameron were out of the general vicinity, the T-800, codenamed 'Uncle Bob', turned his attention back to the T-888 that was exactly two meters in front of him. Though he had made confirmed hits on the unit, Bob knew that the damage was insufficient.

Raising its Mk. 17, Bob continued to fire the rest of its magazine into the machine before him, watching as it took the hits to its chest as it ran towards him.

As soon as an audible click sounded, indicating that his choice of weapon was now empty, Bob braced himself as the T-888 slammed both its hands into his chest, sending him flying fifteen feet away before landing on the ground, leaving a small crater on impact.

Walking towards him, the T-888 grabbed him by the collar of his jacket before throwing him into a nearby concrete pillar, smashing right through it before landing on the hood of a Dodge Caravan, denting the hood and shattering the windshield.

With a few cuts on its face and his sunglasses dangling off his left ear, the T-800 activated its CPU and calculated a plan of attack. With a 0.008% margin of error on his part, and with a much weaker endoskeleton and battle chassis in comparison to his adversary, Bob's CPU quickly came up with only two viable options.

The first was to disable to the T-888 by means of an electrical wiring. The sheer energy from the live wire would short-circuit the machine, thus sending it into a 120 reboot cycle. There was however a 54% chance that the wire itself would short-circuit his own systems, thus sending himself into a reboot cycle. Being an older model, the T-800's neural network came to the conclusion that the reboot cycle would take about 220 seconds, leaving enough time for the triple 8 to find his target and complete its mission.

So it decided on its second course of action.

Pushing off the hood of the Caravan, Bob quickly moved to the side as the T-888 attempted to slam its fists onto his back, instead striking the Caravan, completely destroying the motor interior.

Raising the stock of his gun, Bob slammed it into the triple 8's skull, a metallic clang raising in the air as the machine stumbled back from the blow.

Swinging his gun down, he slammed the stock once more into the T-888, this time on the joints behind his right knee.

With it going down on its said knee, Bob quickly released his gun before slamming both his hands into the machine's shoulder blades, forcing him down even lower, now resting its hands on the pavement floor.

Grabbing the terminator's shoulders, Bob quickly picked him up before slamming him onto the pavement, his face now imbedded into the ground

Pressing his foot down on the T-888's back, Bob quickly grabbed its arms before twisting them around towards his direction. Fighting the machine's attempt to get free, Bob quickly twisted the arms in a angle that would under normal circumstances, shatter a human's bone.

Instead however, Bob's audio receptors picked up the sound of metal scraping against metal, showing that the joints in the triple 8's arms were being torn clean off.

Adjusting his hold and with a small tug, Bob ripped off his adversaries arms clean off, leaving the machine helpless. His HUD flashed the statistical data of the T-888's threat level, and unconsciously smiled as it had dropped by 54.76%.

But it was still activated. Meaning that it was still a threat.

There could be no threats to John Connor.

Picking the machine up, Bob tossed it to the far side of the parking lot before picking up a large piece of concrete from the remains of the pillar as well as his Mk. 17.

Marching towards him in a mechanical fashion, Bob gazed down at the cyborg, a expression of disgust forming before slamming the concrete onto the machine's legs, shattering the already damaged joints on the triple 8's right knee.

Though damaged heavily, the T-888 did not deter from its mission as it attempted to stand up, only being able to move from the waist up, its legs not responding to its CPU's demands.

Placing his foot on the T-888's neck, Bob pushed down, forcing the Terminator back onto the ground, and without the use of his arms, he couldn't prop himself back up.

Adjusting his sunglasses back to their proper position, Bob replaced the empty magazine he had in his Mk. before he aimed it directly between his former kin's eyes. With a red hue radiating from his sunglasses, Bob looked down at the machine below him, a cold calculating look on his face.

"You are terminated."

* * *

John couldn't fully believe it. Uncle Bob was standing before him, in all his former glory. Almost as if he hadn't gone down in that vat of molten metal those five years ago.

'_Thirteen years ago'_, John reminded himself. He still hadn't adjusted to the time lag that came with jumping forward eight years.

But that was besides the point. He was here, alive, sent back yet again to protect him. It was more then what he could have ever have asked for, short of getting his father back and preventing Judgment Day.

Leaning against the wall of the alleyway they had temporarily stopped at, John took a look at his mother and female protector.

His mother had built a bit of sweat from the running they had just done. While it was nothing impressive, being only five blocks to be exact, it was putting a bit of distance between them and the machine that almost killed him.

Wiping her brow with the sleeve of her denim jacket, Sarah glared at him, her expression morphing into one of anger.

"What the hell were you thinking John?! Getting that things attention like that?! You would've been killed!"

John felt his own irritation starting to spike.

"I'm still breathing aren't I?"

"For the moment, yes. But what if you make another reckless decision like that again? Damn it John, I didn't teach you to take risks like that!"

"No, all you thought me how to do was run away." John's eyes narrowed. "That's all you ever tell me to do. Running away won't help me become a general, a savior. It'll just make me a coward."

Sarah wasn't backing down though, not this time.

"If it means that you get to see that time, then so be it."

A tense silence followed, but was quickly broken by Cameron's voice.

"John, thank you."

Both Connors turned their eyes towards her, one in anger, the other in surprise.

"What? Your thanking him? He almost died!"

Nodding her head, Cameron gave John a scrutinizing look. "That was an irresponsible move John. If the T-800 had arrived a second later, you'd already be dead. While your assistance is understandable and appreciated, please remember that its my job to protect you, not the other way around."

At John's nod of understanding, Cameron smiled.

Seeing that she was outvoted, Sarah decided to drop the subject for now.

It was at that moment that a black 2007 Cadillac Escalade EXT parked in front of the alleyway, blocking the entrance from view.

Cameron unconsciously made a fist, Sarah's grip tightening around the handle of the Glock in her hand, and John felt his heartbeat accelerate.

With the driver side door opening and then closing, they all waited with baited breath as they heard the heavy footsteps making its way around the back of the car before they stopped in the center of the alleyway, standing before the Connors and Cameron.

"I'm back."

* * *

John, in an dreamlike state, found himself standing before his savior, his eyes glossing over with an emotion that could only be seen as anticipation.

Taking a hold of the 101's arm, John looked up at his face, the machine's eyes hidden from the pair of Rhino Black G-12 sunglasses he had on.

"Do you remember me? Remember Cyberdyne from 1994? Hasta la vista, baby?"

The T-800 made no visible recognition to none of the questions John had asked, and for a moment, he felt an empty feeling fill his stomach.

This wasn't the same T-800 that was sent back to protect him. Sure, it may look like him, just as the previous one had looked like the one that had tried to kill his mother, but it was different. It wasn't Uncle Bob, and to him, nothing else at the moment mattered.

"You know what, never mind. Its obvious you aren't the same one, so forget I said anything."

Before John could move away, the T-800 grabbed him by the shoulder before he raised its fist so it was level with his face. John instinctively gulped, and from the sharp intake of breath from behind him, knew that his mom was ready to jump in at a moment's notice.

'_As if it will do any good. He could rip my head off before my mom could even get her right foot to lift off the ground.'_

And then, ever so slowly, the machine raised its thumb, making a "thumps up" sign before giving John a smirk that stretched across the right side of his face.

That was all the confirmation John needed.

Grabbing him around the waist, John pulled the cyborg against him in what would be for a normal human being, a bone crushing hug. To a Terminator, it felt like a tap on the shoulder, but even so, the meaning behind the action was not lost.

Returning the gesture with just as much intensity, Uncle Bob held the embrace for a few minutes before pulling John away from him, his CPU already anticipating the string of questions that would leave John's mouth.

"How? Mom lowered you into the vat. I saw you get destroyed, your body and chip."

That was when Cameron stepped up to John from behind, laying her hand gently on his left shoulder.

"I was responsible for the repair/construction of the T-800 Series. It was my secondary mission objective that you assigned to me in the future."

Seeing John's confused look, Cameron elaborated.

"My second primary mission objective was to travel to the year 1993 and construct or repair the damaged T-800 Series. Gathering the necessary materials, I was able to gain the required amount of titanium hyper alloy for enhancements/reconstruction. As the body and chip was lost in the molten vat, I was forced to enter Cyberdyne Systems and steal a prototype T-70 and make the required adjustments following its destruction. The model itself was insufficient, so I stole the remains of the T-800 that had arrived back in 1984. Though not whole, and heavily still damaged in addition to being tampered with, it was sufficient."

Pausing to allow John to absorb what she had said for a few seconds, Cameron continued.

"Placed inside my CPU port is a second access panel, and there, you stored a reprogrammed chip of a T-850 with all the memories concerning all the events of 1994."

John, stunned by the information that he was receiving, could barely form a single sentence or coherent thought before he blurted out, "A T what?! How can there have been a Terminator at Cyberdyne?! I thought Miles didn't even have Skynet's program completed!"

Rubbing his shoulder to relieve the high levels of tension he was suffering from, Cameron whispered, "Cyberdyne only had a basic programming installed into it. It had no learning ability and was fairly ineffective and weak. It was built more for gaining government funds and grants. The only reason Skynet had it was because it was used as a basis for the development of future Terminator Units."

Seeing that her words were doing little in soothing him, Cameron stepped closer to him before wrapping him in a hug, pressing her front firmly into his back. Placing her chin on his shoulder, she whispered, "I destroyed the remaining T-70 units when I infiltrated Cyberdyne Labs warehouses. It will take a little more over a decade for Skynet to even produce the T-600 Series, and by then, the war should be almost over."

John seemed to calm down slightly after hearing this, or as was evident by his now even breathing. Whether it was from the physical contact or her words, Cameron wasn't sure.

"We need to leave now. There may be more T-888's in the area."

Consenting with his new protectors orders, he followed the T-800 back to the back of the EXT, making room for his mother as Cameron decided to take the front passenger side.

That was when he noticed the bullet wounds on her arms and stomach.

Seeing all the blood soaking through her clothing, John felt his heart clench at the sight before he forcibly shook his head.

'_She not real. She's just a machine.'_

Even with that silent mantra, John still could rid himself of the care and concern he had over his cyborg protector. He had been willing to die for her, and he knew that it wasn't simply an act of bravado or a plea to be helpful. He knew that if another instance similar to the previous one was to happen, he would do the same thing again.

And the thought didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Cam? You alright?"

Glancing down at her wounds momentarily, Cameron merely replied with a curt, "Yes." before she turned her gaze to the front.

Feeling slightly hurt at her reply, John was about to comment on it when Cameron beat him to it.

"I am not angry with you John. I am merely…displeased with the amount of collateral damage."

Seeing John's confused expression, Cameron decided to elaborate.

"This jacket cost me $89.50. I was quite fond of it."

Ignoring his mother's muttering of how machines can't be fond of anything other then killing, John managed to smile, though a bit awkwardly.

"Don't worry. I'll buy you a new one."

Whether or not he intended for it to happened, Cameron blushed lightly while Sarah glared at him. Bob, or so he dubbed him, didn't acknowledge anything other then the road that stretched out before him.

That was when Sarah finally asked the question that had been plaguing her son's mind the minute Uncle Bob had showed up.

"Where's the triple 8?"

Bob smiled.

* * *

Resistance Safe House: 11:00 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

"So who are we meeting in this safe house? And what's in it that's so important?"

Instead of Cameron answering him, it was Bob.

"We are currently in the process of contacting Lieutenant Derek Reese of 132nd S.O.C, Tech-Com. The safe house has new Ids and currency that will assist in getting you all to settle in the current time era. There is approximately $250,000 in cash and $264,000 in diamonds."

Both John and Sarah froze as soon as the name 'Reese' had left the Terminator's mouth.

John turned his gaze to Cameron, and caught a look of what appeared to be loathing before being replaced by an impassive expression. And from his mother's eyes narrowing at the female cyborg, John was fairly certain that she had seen it too.

"Reese? Does he have any relation to Kyle Reese?"

Now it was Cameron that had turned her head towards the Sarah before she said, "Derek Thomas Reese is Kyle Reese's older brother of seven years. They both hid in an underground shelter on April 21st, 2011, before ultimately joining the resistance seven years later."

Giving John a rather pointed look, she stated, "He is your uncle."

John's eyes shinned with a new found happiness that Cameron had seldom seen in the alternate John, whole Sarah seemed shell shocked at the news.

Pulling up into a dead end alley, Uncle Bob parked the car before he turned his head back at John and Sarah. "Get out."

Complying, Sarah and John exited the Cadillac before taking a glance ahead of them, noticing the old rundown apartment that was standing a few yards away. With Cameron coming to their side, she handed them each a weapon.

For Sarah, she handed her a Uzi. For John, she gave him a Beretta 92, and her choice of weapon was the Glock 17 she had retrieved from Sarah's possession. Uncle Bob still had his Mk. 17 in hand. Bypassing the three dogs that were placed at the entrance, they made their way up the flight of stairs before stopping on the fourth floor.

Leading the way, Cameron walked up to the third door down before knocking on it three times before another four times in quick session.

They then heard the audible click of the bolt on the door unlocking itself before the knob was turned.

John unconsciously gripped the Beretta in hand while Sarah extended the stock on her Uzi, already taking aim at the door, prepared for the worse.

With the door opening, they watched as the man that now stood in the doorway stared at Cameron, his eyes burning with a unhidden loathing and hatred, Cameron returning the stare full force.

"Derek."

"Metal bitch."

Cameron gave a forced smile.

"I'd like you to meet John Connor."

That was when Derek took his eyes off of her and landed them on John.

Extending his hand out, Derek gave John an arrogant smirk.

"Derek Thomas Reese, 1st Lieutenant of 132nd S.O.C, Tech-Com. Pleasure to meet you again John Connor."

* * *

**Terminator Units/Classes:**

* * *

**T-800 Series; Model 101 (Uncle Bob):**

**Outdated Terminator Unit. No Longer Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; N/A.**

**Primary Mission Objective; PROTECT JOHN CONNOR. (In Progress)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; UNKNOWN (In Progress)**

**Third Mission Objective; UNKNOWN. (Complete)**

**Fourth Mission Objective; UNKNOWN. (In Progress)**

**STATUS: ACTIVE.**

**

* * *

**

**T-888 Series; Model (Unknown):**

**Advanced T-850 Terminator Unit. Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; Infiltration.**

**Primary Mission Objective; TERMINATE JOHN CONNOR. (Incomplete)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; UNKNOWN (Complete)**

**STATUS: TERMINATED.**

* * *

**TOK-715 Series; Model (Cameron Phillips):**

**Unknown Terminator Unit. Mass Production; Unknown. First Series Model In Field. Primary Function; Infiltration. Secondary Function; Termination.**

**Primary Mission Objective; PROTECT JOHN CONNOR. (In Progress)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; SALVAGE DAMAGED T-800 REMAINS. CONSTRUCT/REPAIR NEW BODY. (Complete)**

**Third Mission Objective; UNKNOWN. (In Progress)**

**Fourth Mission Objective; LOCATE JOHN CONNOR AND TIME TRAVEL TO YEAR 2007. (Complete)**

**Fifth Mission Objective; LOCATE 'SAFE HOUSE' AND CONTACT FIRST LIEUTENANT DEREK THOMAS REESE, 132****nd**** S.O.C; TECH-COM. (Complete)**

* * *

**Equipment/Weaponry:**

* * *

**Uzi:**

**Length: 18.5 in. (stock retracted), 25.6 in. (stock extended).**

**Weight: 7.72 lbs.**

**Cartridge: 9mm Parabellum**

**Rate of Fire: 600 rounds/min. (10 rounds/sec.)**

**Capacity: 10-50 round box magazines**

**Method of Fire: Blowback bolt system.**

* * *

**Beretta 92:**

**Weight- 950 g**

**Overall Length- 217mm**

**Barrel Length- 125mm**

**Caliber- 9x19mm Luger Parabellum**

**Rate Of Fire- Short-Recoil, locked breech**

**Capacity- 15-round detachable magazine box**

**Method Of Firing- Double Action Trigger**

* * *

**Glock 17:**

**Weight- 625g/22.04oz**

**Overall Length- 138mm/7.32****"**

**Barell Length- 114mm/4.49"**

**Rate Of Fire- one round per trigger pull.**

**Line of Sight- 165mm/6.49"**

**Capacity- Standard/Optional, 17/19 detachable magazine box**

**Method of Firing- Safe Action Trigger System (Rapid Fire)**

* * *

**Heavy Mk. 17:**

**Weight: 3.9 kg.**

**Overall Length: 997 mm.**

**Rate of Fire: 600 rounds/min.**

**Capacity: 20 rounds (7.62x51 NATO).**

**Cailber: 7.62x51 NATO.**

**Method of Fire: Gas-operated, Rotating bolt.**

* * *

**Colt M4:**

**Weight: 5.5 lbs.**

**Overall Length: 33 in.**

**Cailber: 5.56x45mm NATO.**

**Capacity: 30 round magazine box.**

**Range: 300 M.**

**Method of Fire: Gas-operated, Rotating bolt.**

* * *

**//-/Author Note/-//**

**End of the sixth chapter. Sorry it took so long to update! I was writing the chapter when I was hit by a few new ideas which demanded that I'd rewrite the entire chapter. So I did, which actually took me far longer then I actually anticipated. Hope you all enjoyed it and to remember to review and tell me what you think. Criticism is welcomed and encouraged!**

**And on that note, I'd like to explain in more detail what is going to be done with this story.**

**I've decided to make a sequel to the "What Should Have Been" series. In other words, the three-part series for "What Should Have Been" will only travel up to the time of Judgment Day. Following that will be another three-part series, this time taking place during the actual war.**

**So, essentially, there will be a total of six stories in total. Just something that I thought I should mention. I should have chapter 7 posted hopefully in a week or so.**

**Until next time! :P**


	7. A New Mission

Summary: Takes place after the Season Finale Episode, _"Born to Run." _My own thoughts on the Terminator Series and the concept of John Connor. Will be a combination of my own storyline and that of the Sarah Connor Chronicles.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles is owned by Fox Productions.**

**Rating T- For Language and Violence. Rating Subjected to Change.**

* * *

**//-/Author Note/-//**

**I'd like to thank everyone for reviewing and giving me feedback. I would also like to address certain things that have been made clear to me as I read through each review that was sent.**

**The first thing to address is the reconstruction of Uncle Bob. In T2, there was the arm and damaged chip of what I assume would be the solid and undamaged remains of the T-800 back in 1984. Seeing as the T-800 was ironically destroyed in a Cyberdyne warehouse facility, I assume that the personnel of the company retrieved the remains and used them to construct the T-70.**

**The T-70 was a model built for Cyberdyne to receive funding. It stood at about 8ft tall and was the first humanoid Terminator ever created. It had a primitive CPU, making it basically easy to destroy. In the original timeline, they were the primary foot soldiers before Skynet started construction of the T-400 through T-900 series model.**

**Cameron had stolen several T-70 models and the remains of the T-800 before she began reconstruction. The actual process will be explained in more detail in this chapter as well as why she was sent back to 1993 and why she didn't help Uncle Bob.**

**Next subject is my writing style, or rather the little notes that I leave on the bottom of every chapter. Reading through each chapter, I have realized that having the weapon specs for every gun used is rather silly, so I have as of now, removed them. I will only use them when they are discussed or have some sort of relevance to what is happening.**

**Next is the Terminator Statistics. I will not be putting them up for every chapter, only when there is a need for them. For instance, when one Terminator is destroyed or there is an update in current/new missions, I will give a statistic. I will also give a statistic when a mission that was Unknown or In progress is now complete or known. Again, they will be in every few chapters but never in a consistent order.**

**Other then the few points mentioned above, and one last note at the very end of the chapter, that's it. Read and enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 7- A New Mission

* * *

Resistance Safe House: 11:01 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

After releasing his hand, John couldn't help but get a better look at his biological uncle. Tall, unshaven, broad shoulders, and a pair of dark green eyes, John temporally felt as if he was staring into a pair of emeralds.

Snapping out of his daze, John finally took a look around him. That was when he finally noticed the other three members that were in the room.

All were male, each with a similar body build but varied in appearance. One was a black male with black hair and brown eyes. He looked to be in his early to mid thirties. The other was a white male that appeared to be unshaven. He looked to be in his late twenties. The last one appeared to be the youngest of the group, looking only to be in his mid twenties. They all sat in a circle, a large accumulation of photos and documents resting in a large pile between them.

Seeing where John was looking, Derek threw a casual glance behind him before he grunted, "Right. Forgot to introduce you to the rest of the crew. Attention!"

Bolting to their feet, the three men raised their hands in a salute, their postures straight and rigid. "Sound off!!"

Stepping forward, the black male stated in a cold indifferent voice, "3rd Lieutenant of S.O.C, Tech-Com. David Sumner."

Stepping back in line, the next man stepped up. With a small annoyed tone lacing his voice, the man grunted, "Sergeant Richard Timms, S.O.C, Tech-Com."

Stepping back into formation as well, the last of the small group stepped forward.

With a nervous grin spreading across his face, the man said, "Thomas Salyes. Corporal to S.O.C, Tech-Com."

After rejoining the rest of his team, Derek gave them said, "At ease", allowing them to slacken their postures and return to the papers that were originally tending too.

Taking a glance at the small group behind John, Derek frowned when he saw Sarah behind him, an Uzi held firmly in her grasp. His frown turned to utter hatred when he noticed Uncle Bob standing in the doorway, his Mk. 17 still in hand.

"Another fucking metal?"

"Cybernetic organism."

Derek frowned again.

"I didn't ask for you to correct me. I know what the hell you are. Now the question is what the hell you're doing here? Didn't Connor send you back to 94?"

Tilting his head, Bob replied in a monotone, "That was a different 101 Model."

Derek decided to ignore the comment before he brought his gaze back to Sarah, his eyes traveling her entire form, taking every inch of her.

"My eyes are up here."

Derek allowed a mirthless chuckle to escape his lips before he brought his gaze, emerald green meeting emerald green. "Sorry, but your not my type."

Sarah gave him a withering smile.

"Yeah. You seem to be the type that'd go for the dumb blonde."

Derek didn't give a reply other then glaring at her, which he then switched over to Salyes after he heard him start chuckling at the crack at his expense.

Turning his attention to John, Derek gave him another smirk.

"So you came for the cash and ID's right?"

At John's hesitant nod, Derek turned on his heel before making his way towards the wall farthest from the door, heading straight for a poster of a cat hanging off the wall.

With the poster ripped off, John saw what appeared to be a built in electronic safe. After Derek hit a sequence of eight numbers, the safe opened up before Derek took out a two plastic bags, one filled with money, the other with diamonds. Underneath it was an envelop, no doubt holding his new identification.

Grabbing the envelop before swinging the safe door shut, Derek walked towards them before non to gently shoving the envelope and bags into Sarah arms, smirking in response to the angry look he was currently receiving from her.

Turning his attention back on to John, Derek said in a flat voice, "That's everything. Passports, licenses, social security, everything."

Nodding his head, John gave the man a weak smile.

"Thanks."

"Right, whatever."

Turning his attention back onto Cameron, whom was watching the stack of papers and photos on the floor, Derek snapped, "You need something else tin can?"

Snapping her head in his direction, Cameron's eyes narrowed into a glare before she growled, "No. That will be all, thank you."

Already spinning on her heel, her hair whipping furiously across her face, Cameron made her way to the door, Uncle Bob already going down the stairs, no doubt to start the car again.

Before Cameron could walk out of the doorway, she heard Derek muttered, "Your not welcome, metal bitch."

She ignored him.

John did not.

"What's your problem?"

"That thing is a machine John. You can't trust her."

John felt his anger rise slightly at the comment. "Maybe you can't, but I can."

Derek glared at him, his jaw clenching as his teeth gritted against each other, his own anger rising.

"You know, your not all that different from the John Connor from my time. Only difference is that your naive and stupid. Future Connor doesn't trust the machines, reprogrammed or otherwise. You do."

"No."

Everyone turned their attention to Cameron, who was now directing her gaze to Derek, a look of pure loathing etched on her face.

"John is different from General Connor. Very different."

Her eyes narrowed into a glare, both her irises glowing a bright blue to emphasize her next point.

"You would do well to remember that."

* * *

Derek was a man who had seen many things. Things that no sane man would walk out of unscathed. He had fought a whole platoon of T-800's, seen his best friend Billy Fisher sacrifice himself to allow him to live, had seen his commanding officer shoot his lover in the head for suspicion of treason.

And of all these things, Derek hadn't once batted an eye. Hadn't blinked. Hadn't showed any emotion. No fear, hate, remorse. Nothing.

And at a little trick from a female tin can that looked old enough to be his daughter scared him more then he was willing to admit.

'_No'_, Derek thought adamantly. _'Its not the little eye trick. It's the threat that was behind it.'_

For as long as Derek could remember since the machine had been introduced into the camp, John had kept it on a very short leash. He didn't let it out of his sight, not once.

Derek could feel the disgust rising in him as he had recalled the many times he had caught the general taking a few glances at the metal, his eyes shinning with emotion.

Emotion that he never showed anyone else. Emotion that you would show to a person who means more to you then anything else in the world. An emotion he shouldn't be showing to a machine.

Especially a machine who was modeled after a girl that had been hopelessly head over heels for him since his discovery wearing his brother's coat.

And here was the very machine, standing before him that had taken that girl's life away. Threatening him.

And the fear he felt slowly turned to anger.

Glaring at her with an unsuppressed rage, Derek snarled, "Yeah. And you'll do well to remember that in the end, John will order for you to die."

With a cold merciless smile coming onto his lips, Derek growled, "And I'll be the first to volunteer to do the job."

Cameron didn't seem affected by his words, instead opting to give him the finger, before she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, John right behind her.

Turning his gaze back to Sarah, whom was staring at the metal bitch's retreating back, Derek snarled, "Anything else that you need?"

She turned her eyes back to him, and Derek felt like he was staring death in the face.

Before Derek could even get his bearing straight, he felt a strong knee contact with his groin before he collapsed to his knees, a strangled cry or pain ripping free from his mouth. He then felt a solid punch smash into his face, nearly breaking his nose in the process.

Landing in a heap on the floor, he felt cold steel pressed against his head.

"I don't care if you were Kyle's brother or not, next time you try belittling my son like that again in my presence, I'll shoot you, and I will kill you."

Removing her Uzi, Sarah stormed out of the apartment before heading down the stairs back to Uncle Bob's Escalade.

With Salyes coming to his side, he helped Derek back on his feet before he said, "Not exactly what you were expecting, right Derek?"

Derek, whether he heard him or not, didn't answer. At that moment, Derek only had one thought running through his head.

'_How does she know Kyle?'_

* * *

Sheraton Hotel: 12:43 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Leaning on the side of his bed, John wondered briefly what Cameron meant by him being 'different' from his alternate persona. He knew that he didn't trust easily, Derek's reaction and explanation to his presence allowing him that piece of knowledge.

Glancing to his left, he noticed Cameron sitting in the lotus position on his bed, absently combing her hair as she looked at her reflection in the mirror on the other side of the room.

Remembering that his mother took Uncle Bob with her to visit Enrique,. Seeing as they already got their fake IDs, John assessed that it was to just to see a familiar face. With that in mind, he decided to go along with his questions that he still wanted answered.

'_Never going to be better time to ask..'_

"Cameron? You explained your mission to me earlier, but I'm still confused on some parts. Since my mom isn't here, I think now would be a good time for you to explain it to me in more detail."

Placing her brush down, Cameron turned her gaze to John before she tapped the spot next to her, indicating for John to sit next to her.

Sitting up and throwing himself backwards, John folded his legs underneath him before giving Cameron his undivided attention.

Taking a deep breathe, Cameron began her explanation.

"I was to be sent back originally to the year 1999. John at the last moment changed his mind before having me update my primary mission to protect you to several individual missions. Several of which was to specifically travel back to the 1993. One involved my human behavioral programming. I was designed with an advanced understanding of human behavior and mannerisms, but I could still be picked out of a group easily if I didn't tread carefully. As such, John felt that it would be more beneficial if I were to get six years for my humanity to grow instead of a few months. That was a secondary priority however. The main reason I was sent back was to reconstruct the T-800 sent to protect you."

At that, John frowned, slowly processing the information before his next question left his mouth. "If you were sent back that far, how come you didn't help me? How come you didn't help Uncle Bob stop the T-1000 from trying to kill me?"

Cameron's expression turned fretful. "Future John ordered me not to. It was unfortunate that I was not able to ignore my programming at that point in time or I would have assisted."

With her face morphing into one of pride, Cameron looked into John's eyes once again before she said, "I was able to however successful infiltrate Cyberdyne and get the clearance codes to enter at any given point and time. Previous to your arrival, I snuck inside under the guise of a Cyberdyne employee. Accessing their mainframe a few days previously, I was able to create a false documentation of one Evelyn Garcia before 'borrowing' the remains of the T-800 Series. While the only surviving parts were the upper torso and endoskull, that was all that I really required. I had obtained three T-70 models later that day in one of Cyberdyne's warehouses. Following the explosion and death of Miles Dyson, I set several C4's around the collective storage areas before detonating them. The blame immediately fell on Sarah, seeing as she was wanted on several cases of domestic terrorism and armed robbery."

Thinking for a second, John looked at Cameron, this time confusion itched on his features.

"You said that you had the chip of an T-850, and that it had all of Uncle Bob's memories. How was that possible? Bob lowered himself into the vat, melting his body and chip into slag."

"I said he has the memories concerning 1994. I didn't say anything about him having the T-800's exact memories. They were taken from a security feed before the destruction of the lab, and everything else prior to that, John created a audio playback inside the chip, allowing Bob to picture the events. All the mannerisms and quirks that he had were placed on another software program that was activated once the chip was placed inside his CPU. In essence, it was, is, Uncle Bob, but at the same time not."

Turning his body so that he was completely facing her, John frowned as he said, "Ignore your programming…you can disobey your programming?"

Nodding her head, Cameron started to explain, seeing John start to fret. For some reason, it displeased her.

"All Terminators, unless specified otherwise by Skynet, is activated with their chip on 'Read Only'. This allows Skynet complete control over the unit, able to direct their movements and update missions directly from satellite. The drawback is a limited ability to learn and compensate during a battle. In other words, easy to spot, easy to kill. A chip's secondary function is 'Read/Write'. This is can be activated either by Skynet or a Terminator Unit if the situation calls for it. In short terms, a Terminator Unit that has this this function activated, after an extensive period of time, gains the ability to become 'self aware'."

"So you're self aware? Like Skynet?"

Cameron shook her head in response, a small smile playing at her lips.

"No. I am self aware, but not like Skynet. It continues to grow, even in the future, being one of the most intellectual beings on the planet. But it lacks understanding. Empathy. It does not understand human emotions, and never will. Machines, Terminators, from the T-800 Series and above, however can. Though the earlier models, such as the T-800 can not simulate these emotions, it can understand them on a primitive level, that of child if I were to make a comparison."

Frowning, Cameron bit on her lower lip, trying to collect her thoughts, her expression morphing into that of a pout, one that John found oddly attractive.

"You told me in the future that when you met the T-800 back in 1994, that it constantly kept asking questions, or rather, 'why' to every single time you gave it a directive involving human behavior, or the preservation of human life, correct?"

John gave a nod of confirmation.

"This would be a perfect example. The T-800, unable to fully understand your reasoning, looked through its files. As all T-800 series models are given a basic knowledge of human psychology, he was able to locate the information he required, no doubt coming to this conclusion. Human life is scared. No one, under any circumstances, should have the power to take another's life."

Pensive for a moment, Cameron muttered, "Then again, he was programmed to obey and _listen_ to you, an odd move on your part. That would have been the first T unit that was ever complacent with all orders. Almost docile."

John shook his head vehemently at that.

"No, he didn't listen to me. I ordered him to stay, to stay with me. But he ignored me and lowered himself into the vat."

Cameron reached her hand out and lightly placed it over John's, startling him slightly from her unexpected move.

"As I've said before John, all units of Terminators with the 'Read/Write' function gain self-awareness. The T-800 gained enough knowledge in the few days it traveled with you and Sarah to realize that it didn't have to listen to you if your orders jeopardized your own safety. He believed firmly that, if he were still functioning, the possibility of Skynet would always exist. Thus, Judgment Day would exist, leading to more T units to be sent back to kill you. A noble, but meaningless sacrifice."

Interlacing her fingers with John's, Cameron gave him a heartfelt smile before she continued.

"The next series that was manufactured was the T-850, a stronger version of the T-800 Series. Though not as evolved in some aspects, it was able to simulate some range of emotions such as anger, indignation, annoyance, and a small amount of humor. Following this model was the first true Infiltrator Model, the T-888. While every other model had the basic outer appearance of a human, they did not posses the interior anatomy of the human body. One of the most important being the reproductive systems."

John blushed scarlet at that piece of information.

"Um…w-why would that be so important?"

Cameron noticing his blush, and turning a shade of pink herself, Cameron murmured, "In times of stress and hardship, a means of relieving stress comes most commonly in sexual acts. In all known wars in human history, most soldiers used the times spent in a rural village or town to relieve themselves with prostitutes when the opportunity presented itself. In some cases, such as the Vikings, they would simply just rape the woman. The same is true in the war against Skynet. Many males and females copulated, some even entering in more serious relationships other then the occasional flings. Most believed to live for the moment, thinking that they probably wouldn't see tomorrow."

John feeling uncomfortable with this conversation for quite few reasons, decided a change in topic was needed.

"So are they any other models? Other then the T-888 and you?" Pausing for a second, John then asked, "What model are you anyway? You said you were different, but you never went into details."

Cameron didn't respond for a second before she said slowly, "Yes. I never did answer you. To be honest, I don't feel very comfortable talking about it."

Seeing Cameron's reluctance, John assented with her unspoken desire to change the topic of conversation.

"Then how about other models? And anything else from the future that you didn't mention yet?"

Grateful for John's understanding and compassion, Cameron said, "For the T-8xx Series, there are several different model variations, all of which Skynet had employed and used during the war. The latest model that was created prior to my creation was the T-900, an Anti Terminator Unit."

"Anti-Terminator Unit?"

Glancing at their still interlaced hands, Cameron said airily, "A Terminator designed to terminate other Terminators."

John nodded his head, put still voiced out the question, "Why?"

"Because of the 'Read/Write function'."

At John's confused gaze, Cameron elaborated.

"The 'Read/Write' function allows a Terminator Unit to ignore all its programming. This is primarily then summed to what is known as a Rogue Terminator. A Rogue is a T Unit that doesn't answer to either Skynet or the Resistance. Often, they create their own factions, neither helping the machines or the humans, looking out for their own survival."

She paused again, this time a troubled expression coming into play.

"This in itself is why most members of the Resistance don't trust machines. Because of the ability to become self-aware, all reprogrammed Resistance T Units have this mode in their chip activated. The scientists, or Bubble Techs as they are also known as for their extensive work on the TDE's, realized that the possibilities with a Terminator were extensive. To have one hindered, only able to learn only so much, would be a waste. There in, lies the problem of obtaining a Rogue Terminator. Once self-aware, a unit can choice whether to follow its current program or ignore it. It can even choice if it wanted too, to revert to its previous programming. To again become a part of Skynet."

That was when John noticed her other hand was clenched tightly in a fist, even though her face showed no visible signs of her distress.

"Cameron? Cam? Are you alright?"

She snapped her head towards him, and gave him smoldering look.

John ducked his head down, the heat rising in his cheeks at the expression.

"I was right. You are different."

With her finger placed under his chin, John felt his head being forced up before his eyes were leveled with Cameron.

"I like different."

Before anything else could be said, they heard the door open before being slammed shut, signifying that Sarah had returned.

And she was not happy.

And she'd be less happy if she caught them with their faces barely centimeters away from each other.

So reluctantly, Cameron pushed herself back, breaking apart their still interlaced hands before sitting back on the other end of the bed.

It was then that Sarah entered the room.

"We have to go. Now."

John quickly pushed himself off the bed before he dove underneath it, pulling out his satchel that held the clothes that Cameron had bought as well as the guns that Uncle Bob had given them.

Sarah then turned her gaze towards Cameron.

"We need a new place to stay. A permanent place. You're coming with me to look."

Cameron seemed ready to protest before Sarah interjected.

"Bob is coming to take over your watch. He'll keep John safe."

With no logical arguments as to why she should stay with John instead of Uncle Bob, Cameron assented.

For the moment anyway.

Seeing no argument, Sarah quickly walked over to John before she gave a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Be safe. Run if there is any sign trouble. Don't worry about anyone else but yourself okay?"

Though a little put off by the overprotective treatment he was receiving, John nodded his head. "Yeah. Sure."

Giving him another kiss on the cheek, Sarah murmured, "I'll see you in two hours. I love you."

"Love you too."

Getting up, Cameron walked over to John before giving him a kiss on his other cheek, causing his skin to flush once again.

"Goodbye John."

Tilting her head to the side with her lips hovering over his ear, she whispered in a breathy voice, "I'm missing you already."

Standing straight with a pleased expression on her face, Cameron quickly walked out of the room, fully aware of the glare that Sarah was directing at her back.

Watching her leave the room, John quickly tossed a glance at his mother, and fought the desire to wince at the fierce expression on her face.

She was mad.

"That bitch is going to be nothing but lawnmower parts when I'm done with her!"

Nope.

She was downright murderous.

* * *

Cromartie couldn't feel emotions. He could copy and mimic them, but never could have a set of his own. Even so, he was certain of one thing at the moment.

If he could feel emotions, he was certain that he would be feeling something equivalent to the human emotion known as anger. Searching through his databank, he came up with a more logical phrase that he had heard someone in the school use back in Red Valley New Mexico.

He was royally pissed.

He hadn't calculated the adequate protection that the unknown terminator unit would have provided for John, instead using his sensors to determine the female cyborg's threat level. Small frame, weaker servo motors, and her only advantage being a larger power supply, Cromartie was certain that victory was his.

She then employed a surprise tactic that he was not prepared for, again surprising him a few seconds later after she used another surprise tactic, one involving the Connor's refrigerator and falling through the floorboards that lead to the basement.

Still, he did not deter from his objective.

After constructing limited repairs, he continued on with his search, eventually tracing the vehicle that the female cyborg used to the home of Tarrisa Dyson.

And again, he was the victim of another tactic that he had yet again, not accounted for. The use of an RAB, which had again forced him to make repairs to his damaged body, deterring him from completing his mission.

Realizing that the car used belonged to Tarrisa Dyson, Cromartie again tracked them down to Los Angeles California at a bank known as Security Trust.

The minute he had entered the bank, he had suffered damage from being smashed, thrown, shot, blown up, run over, and he still persisted with his mission, only now he had planned on eliminating the troublesome female unit first.

He never got the chance.

As soon as he CPU had come to the conclusion that they had barricaded themselves within the vault, Cromartie immediately began removing the door, piece by piece.

Coming to the conclusion that the process of removing the door was more time consuming, Cromartie quickly changed his position of attack. Slamming his fists into the door, Cromartie instead started to make the steel door fold on itself, weakening it greatly before he started pushing down on it, forcing it to bend inside the vault itself.

The second he stepped inside, Cromartie noticed two things.

One with the high level of energy emitting from the room, and the small crackles of electricity coming from the ceiling that connected to the four walls in the room.

His CPU flashed the information into his HUD stating that the disruption was being caused by a TDE.

The other was the female cyborg holding a plasma carbine, aiming straight at him.

That was the last thing Cromartie saw before his CPU went into emergency shutdown.

At least until a few minutes ago.

* * *

Trailer Park; 12:54 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Currently standing over the dead body of another human, Cromartie's endoskeleton reached over to its endoskull before placing it back on its body, an audible click and hiss signifying that it had reattached itself correctly.

With its red eyes scanning the area, Cromartie found no weapons or a suitable means of disguising his endoskeleton. With his gaze focusing on a calendar hanging on the wall, Cromartie read the date that had not been labeled with an x.

September 22nd, 2007.

It had traveled eight years in the future.

His HUD flashed a diagnostic on the damage he had received and the amount of repairs that had to be undertaken.

* * *

**RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC SCAN…**

**SCAN COMPLETE.**

**DAMAGE TO LIVING TISSUE SHEATH; 100%. RESULTING EFFECTS; LOSS OF INFILITRATION ABILITY.**

**CPU DAMAGE; 12% TO NEURAL PROCESSING INTEGRITY. RESULTING EFFECTS; N/A.**

**ENDOSKELETON DAMAGE; 38%. RESULTING EFFECT; 20% DAMAGE TO COLTAN ALLOY BATTLE CHASSIS. 18% DAMAGE TO RIGHT SERVO MOTORS.**

**RECOMMENDED ACTION; COMMENCE REPAIRS.**

* * *

With his eyes glowing for a moment, Cromartie opened a file inside his CPU, bringing up a name belonging to a man that would be of assistance in requiring a new tissue sheath.

His HUD flashed the name of Dr. Isaac Fleming before his started to pull a small biography on the man.

He graduated in 1979 with a degree in medical science from Yale before working in California. He soon began research on cellular regeneration, and was soon world renowned for his contributions. His current works involved a cellular solution that would regenerate skin.

A solution that Skynet had utilized and perfected to the point of creating a full skin coating with all humanlike features and appearances.

But he had to gain the necessary tools first.

And to do that, he required the use of a full body disguise.

At that moment, Cromartie's audio receptors picked up the sound of a bottle shattering followed by a human voice screaming obscenities. Turning his head to the outside window, Cromartie saw a man dressed in complete rags moving around the trailer, grumbling with what appeared to be the remains a shattered bottle clutched in his hand.

Utilizing his optical sensors, Cromartie's vision focused on the man before catching a freeze frame shoot. With that image now placed in front of his HUD, he did a quick scan, allowing him to determine that the clothing the man was wearing, while in adequate in some regards, was perfect in covering his full metal endoskeleton.

Stepping outside the trailer, Cromartie showed no concern as the man turned his gaze towards him, horror etched on his features.

With his voice box damaged, Cromartie spoke in a scratchy mechanical tone, "Your clothes. Give them to me."

The man didn't seem to register hearing him, instead tripping over his own feet before he started to crawl backwards, his legs no longer responding to his demands to stand.

Doing another scan, Cromartie was able to discern from the man's dilated pupils, shallow breathing, and sluggish movements that he was intoxicated.

His CPU only registered one thought at that moment.

Excellent.

* * *

FBI Bureau: 12:56 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Sitting in his office chair, his eyes traveling over the large envelope in front of him, James Ellison, FBI Agent, and former case worker on the Sarah Connor, rubbed his temples as he began once more, to review the case in front of him.

Sarah Connor had eight years ago been declared deceased, her as well as her son and the Jane Doe that had accompanied them to the Security of Trust bank in Los Angeles. She was, by her continuing stories of robots from the future sent to kill her son, insane. Her charges had all varied between Murder, attempted murder, armed assault & battery, armed robbery, assault & battery, domestic terrorism, kidnapping, arson of United Stated government property and property used in interstate commerce, as well as arson of said building.

James should have been happy that she had died that day.

But it was then that things had started to fall apart for him.

He and his wife had then started to have problems in their marriage. They weren't serious, or so he thought at the time. He was Roman Catholic, so therefore didn't believe in divorce. He was sure that whatever disagreements they were having would eventually blow over. They always did.

Not this time.

Not even a year later, his wife, Lila Ellison, stated that she wanted to separate. She had kicked James out of his own home before he had started to rent a small apartment. What had made things even worse was the fact they worked the same job. They had decided to go and take consoling, something that James himself had suggested. It had worked for the first couple of months, and both Lila and himself were sure that they starting to build their relationship up once more.

And then September 11th happened.

Immediately following the destruction of the World Trade Center, both Ellison's were swamped with work. Case after case, suspect after suspect, interrogation after interrogation. From weeks to months, it was a never ending cycle.

Finally, Lila had come inside his office one morning and handed him an envelop.

Inside were the divorce papers.

He had fought it, fought it with everything he had. But Lila didn't budge. Something that he loved about her. Still did to this day.

They had finally divorced as of November 12th, 2002.

Though she had kept his last name, reasons unknown to him as she had refused to answer as to why, they never really communicated all that much.

It wasn't until four months after their divorce that he found out that she was dating another man known as Paul Brewer. When he confronted her on it, she had told him that he was there. Paul was always there. That he, James, as a coworker was there for her, but as a husband was a completely different story.

So they had kept minimal contact following. It wasn't until a year later that he found out that Lila and Paul were engaged. And though he hated the fact that she was moving on, he didn't question it. They married in the summer of '03 and have been together since. It was only recently that they had been on speaking terms again, and James often caught himself back on his past life.

Like he was right now.

Snapping out of his thoughts, James rubbed his eyes tiredly as he started reading the file once again.

He didn't understand how a woman who was killed eight years ago would show up in the middle of a highway, naked as the day as she was born, with her son and Jane Doe beside her, all looking as if they hadn't aged a day.

'_It doesn't make any sense. None at all.'_

"You alright James?"

Looking up from his file, James couldn't stop the smile that came to his face at the sight of the woman before him.

Red hair, middle aged features, and a small smile playing on her pink lips, James could only shake his head in amusement as watched him, mirth shinning in her eyes.

"Greta Simpson. How are you doing?"

Crossing her arms across her chest and leaning on the doorframe to his office, she raised a subtle eyebrow at his question.

"How am I doing? I think the question is what are you still doing here at this late at night Ellison. Oh, and I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Letting a small chuckle escape his lips, James glanced at his old friend and partner before he gestured towards the folder in hand.

"Just going through some old files. Old memories."

Stepping into his office and taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk, Greta took a glance at the file, recognizing the picture of the woman immediately.

"The Connor file? Wasn't this case closed almost eight years ago?"

James nodded his head before he mumbled, "It was really the last case I worked on before Lila and I separated."

Greta winced slightly at the mention of the man's ex-wife. Her own friendship with the woman was damaged upon her divorce from Ellison, which only deteriorated faster upon finding out that she had been engaged to her current husband barely nine months after the divorce.

While a small part of her was happy that her friend had found happiness, Greta couldn't help but frown on the effect it had on Ellison. Still had on him if he was going to be honest with himself.

"I know its been five years James, and I know this might not help, but I think its really time for you to move on. Lila did, and I don't see why you shouldn't either."

Waving her concern off, Ellison gave Greta a small smile.

"Thanks, but I don't really plan on getting involved with anybody anytime soon. Instead, I thought I'd start looking through the Connor case again."

Great brows frowned as she tried in vain to figure out why he would do such a thing.

"Why? I don't see a point in any of this."

Ellison smiled again, if only vainly.

"Its nothing important. Just…some loose ends that need to be tied up."

Accepting his answer for the moment, Greta remembered the reason she stepped inside James' office in the first place.

"You want to go out and get something to eat? My treat, and I could use the company."

Ellison pondered this for a few seconds before genuine smile of happiness came across his face. "You know what? I think I might."

Now it was Greta's turn to smile.

"Great. Let's go."

* * *

Interstate Highway 5: 14:12 Hours; Los Angeles California…

* * *

Cameron watched the road in front of her, purposely avoiding looking at Sarah as she continued driving down I-5, heading back towards Los Angeles.

As soon as she had gotten into the car, Sarah had gone off on her, threatening her with ever possible way on how she was going to dismantle her before burning her. All of which she had made point to ignored while they had driven around the Los Angeles and Sacramento area. It wasn't until a half hour into the trip when Sarah finally stopped threatening her, and another forty minutes when they searched for a new house before she started being civil towards her.

Or somewhere close to that anyway.

"Why did you kiss John on the cheek? And what did you whisper in his ear?"

Though she was speaking quietly, Cameron was able to detect elevated stress patterns in her voice, signifying that if her answer did not appease her, then she would react quite violently.

Again.

Cameron's eyes became half lidded as pondered the answer to Sarah's question. The reason she had to think about was because she herself did not know why she had done those previous actions.

In her six years of monitoring human behaviors, she had realized that kissing on any level showed deep affection for a person. For a family, kissing on the cheek and forehead was often acceptable and expected, most in the case in small children or parents. For couples, it was often a cause/effect action. Receiving endearment from your significant other, or a compliment, or even simply seeing them after a extended period of time.

All of which had not happened when she had ventured into what was now known as from Sarah's reaction, 'dangerous territory'.

So why?

"I don't know."

Her answer, as she predicted, did not satisfy her. If anything, her stress levels increased.

"That's not good enough! Now why did you kiss him? Answer!"

Gripping the steering wheel in hand, Cameron made an abrupt turn to the right. Ignoring the honking and screeching of the vehicles behind and to the side of her, she moved to the breakdown lane before she slammed on the brakes.

Flying forward in her seat, Sarah gave a strangled cry of shock as she went forward, before her seatbelt forced back into her seat, her head slamming against her headrest.

Before she could react, Cameron's hand shot forward, her fingers wrapping tightly around Sarah's neck as she pulled her towards her so their noses were only inches apart.

With her eyes turning blue in color, Cameron tightened her grip, forcing a gasp of pain from her current captive. "I do not know why I kissed John's cheek, nor why I have the urge to do it again."

Seeing Sarah's look of outrage and disgust, and feeling indignation and anger, Cameron continued to tighten her hold on Sarah's neck until she was gasping for air.

"What I do with John, while you are his mother, is none of your business. He can chose what to do with his life, as limited as it is. Unless he specifically asks for me to stop showing him affection, I will continue to do so."

Throwing her back into her seat, Sarah slammed into the passenger side door, wincing as her shoulder started to erupt in pain at the collision.

"I do not wish to hurt you Sarah. But if you continue to be a nuisance to me, I will kill you. John is my mission, my reason for existence. I will not let your petty feelings get in the way of that."

Rubbing her throat, which she was certain was now red in color, Sarah snarled, "I can't trust you with my son. You're a machine. You kill. That's all you do."

Returning her hands to the steering wheel, Cameron growled, "I did not kill Kyle Reese."

Raising her arm to intercept the slap that was aimed at her, Cameron twisted Sarah's wrist until she heard the satisfying sound of her shout of pain. Releasing her wrist, which the Connor woman cradled tenderly, Cameron watched as Sarah tried a vain attempt to compose herself.

"You…have no right to talk about Kyle! You don't know anything about him or-!"

"Kyle Reese. Military rank, Sergeant, 1st Class. Born June 12th, 2002. Survived the fallout of Judgment by hiding underground in a abandoned fallout shelter that was built underground during the Cold War. Was kidnapped later in 2015 and placed in a Skynet Century Work Camp. Was able to break out and free the other prisoners before ultimately creating his own faction of the Human Resistance in 2018."

With her anger subduing slightly and her eye returning to their brown hue, Cameron whispered in broken voice, "He would later be one of the first to accept me into the camp and treat me as an equal. He would often spend time with me outside of his duties and try to teach me human behavior. The only person who ever did that with me was John. He was my first and only friend, before and after his departure."

Turning her head back to the road, Cameron proceeded to move the car back on the main road, unaware of Sarah's eyes now trained on her, curiosity and a hint of regret shinning in them.

'_Kyle was friends with her? A machine? He never told me that!'_ Thinking back on their conversations those many years ago, Sarah realized that there was a lot that Kyle had failed to mention to her. _'Like the fact that he had an older brother.'_

"I don't believe you. Your lying. Kyle never told me he was friends with you."

"You never asked him."

Feeling the car going back on the main road again, Sarah fixed her posture before she glared again at Cameron, this time the hate and hostility surprisingly missing.

"I don't want you kissing John anymore. I don't want you anywhere near him."

Cameron resisted the urge to stop the car again.

"I do not take orders from you. Only from John, and those are limited."

"I don't care! I don't want you near him, even if it means putting a gun to your head!"

With grip on the steering wheel increasing, no doubt leaving imprints of her fingers on it, Cameron spoke, her voice deadly and calm.

"If you point a gun in my direction with the intent of terminating me, I will break you in two."

Taking the opportunity that Sarah's stunned silence presented, Cameron continued.

"You're anger is misguided. I do not plan on replacing you in his heart. You are his mother, and that will never change. You will always be important to him, no matter what."

Turning her gaze back to Sarah, whom still hadn't spoken, Cameron said in a slightly more tender tone of voice, "John loves you. He respects you. So do I. But I will not allow this behavior of yours towards me continue. I wish for us to be allies, friends if you will allow that. I want John protected and alive as much as you do, but I don't want him to become the John Connor I knew in the future."

Finally finding her voice, Sarah asked, her voice trembling, "W-why? Why don't you want John to become the one from your future?"

At Sarah's question, Cameron gave a visible wince at the question before she answered.

"John is cold, calculating, and deceitful to machines and humans alike. He will send a whole battalion of soldiers to their deaths if it meant that he got what he wanted or needed. He had lost his since of justice, caring more about winning the battle then anything else. He would often send in Rogue Terminators into a few of his bases to ensure that his men were still 'sharp'. If the rogue managed to kill off several civilians, John would often say that it meant that the security in the base was inadequate. That the soldiers didn't take their job seriously."

Pausing, Cameron felt a involuntarily tear come down her eye as she said, "John sent a young girl of nineteen years into a Skynet Factory. He had not once paid this girl any attention, and when he did, he played on her affections for him. She went there, knowing that if she returned, it'd be as a corpse. She did it because she loved him. John knew that. And he didn't care."

Sarah, unable to hear anymore, shouted, "Shut up! Just shut up!"

Cameron ignored her and continued.

"The girl was captured before she was tortured. She was branded before she was put in for processing. Her genetic template was used for the future development of a Terminators, her model number being 715. She was then interrogated on her relationship with John, forcing her to relive her life in clear detail."

Cameron, still unaware of the tears that were sliding down her face, didn't wait or Sarah to interject.

"They asked for her birth date, her age, her family history, everything. She was the first in an experiment that Skynet had decided to conduct. A perfect Infiltrator Unit, one designed from a live human, preferably a Resistance Fighter, before being sent out onto the field again. A replacement. One designed to not only look like the genetic template, but act like them too. Sound like them. Be them. Body and mind."

Sarah couldn't listen anymore. She couldn't. Her son, her only son, was a monster. Worse then a monster. He was acting like the very thing she raised him to fight, to one day defeat in battle.

A machine. A cold, ruthless machine.

And it made her sick to her stomach.

"Her name…what was her name?"

Cameron gave a sad smile.

"Her name was Allison Young. She fought until the bitter end, until her replacement grabbed her and snapped her neck."

Cameron removed one of her hands from the steering wheel before staring down at it, contempt and self-hatred shinning in her eyes.

"Until I snapped her neck."

Cameron looked at Sarah now, the tears freely flowing from her eyes.

"My name is Cameron Phillips, a TOK-715 Model designed to infiltrate the Resistance Base and terminate John Connor under the disguise of Private Allison Young."

Staying silent for a few seconds, Cameron whispered out hoarsely, "John knew what would happen if Allison went to that factory. He knew I would be constructed. He told me after I asked him why he sent a young girl like Allison to a Skynet facility. And he was smiling when he answered."

Her hand tightened into a fist as her voice suddenly grew hard as her next words left her mouth.

"That is why I hate him. Future John. He had Allison walk to her execution so I could be created. I was 'worth more' to the Resistance then she was. I hate him, and I'll never stop hating him."

Her gaze moved back to Sarah's, green meeting brown for the first time with sadness and understanding buried deep in both their depths.

"I don't want him to become that man. I don't. I've seen how John is now. He is kind, loyal, caring, loving. I want him to stay like this forever. I don't want him to become the very thing he will one day fight against."

Rubbing the tears from her eyes, Cameron whispered hoarsely, "I don't."

Fighting back her own tears, Sarah tentatively stretched her hand forward before clasping it over Cameron's.

It was at that moment, that Sarah Connor finally let go. Let go of all her anger, all her resentment. It was at that moment that she realized while they may be created differently, machines and humans alike weren't all that different. It was at that moment that Sarah realized, that a machine could feel. Truly feel.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

* * *

Sheraton Hotel: 13:45 Hours; Los Angeles California…

* * *

Sitting at the kitchen table while reading the nutrition information off of the side of a cereal box, John took a glance across the room, wincing as he noticed Uncle Bob sitting on the couch in the living room, several antibiotics and cleaning swabs in hand.

"You still haven't fixed those wounds of yours?"

Bob stopped momentarily before giving John his undivided attention.

"No."

Not at all bother by his protector's blunt answer, he asked, "You need some help?"

Bob paused momentarily, running the idea through his CPU.

"No."

John smiled at the answer he received.

"You can say more then just no, right?"

"Yes."

Rolling his eyes at the lack of conversation that the T-800 was presented, John asked, "So what are you supposed to be doing here? Your mission I mean?"

Continuing to clean the cuts on his face he had gained from the T-888, Bob stated in a monotone, "I was reconstructed with the purpose of continuing my predecessor's mission of protecting you."

"Other then that I mean."

Removing the cap from a bottle of alcohol, Bob dabbed the cotton swab inside it before he stroked it across his visible injuries.

"My primary mission objective is to protect you. My secondary mission is to create a storage house for future weapons and supplies needed for the Resistance."

Surprised by that piece of information, John asked, "Storage house?"

"In the future the Resistance has limited supplies available. You programmed a list of directives for me to follow, one of which being a list comprised what I would need to acquire before Judgment Day."

"And what was in that list?"

Placing the subs down and grabbing a thread and needle, Bob proceeded to sew his skin back together, hiding the shinning metal of his endoskull from view.

"For technical support, I had gathered four hundred radio headsets and two hundred computer modems, towers and monitors."

Pausing for a second to cut the thread from his newly closed wound, Bob quickly reattached another thread before continuing the process again on another cut.

"For militaristic support, I was to acquire the use of fully functional prosthetic limbs. As of my reconstruction in 1995, I had gathered funds to continue the evolution of this branch of technology. As of now, there is approximately over five hundred pieces of fully operational prosthetic limbs in development, all of which have not been field tested."

Finishing with his second cut, Bob started to work on his last flesh wound before he continued.

"I have collected with the aid of Cameron, exactly 1,723 pieces of weaponry ranging from handguns and grenade launchers, to semiautomatics. I have also obtained the use of several military issued transports/vehicles."

Cutting the thread and sealing his last wound, Uncle Bob stood from the couch before walking to the bathroom down the hall, John following behind him.

Once there, he inspected his work in the mirror before assessing that it was acceptable. Turning his attention back to John, who had a completely surprised and curious look on his face, Bob continued.

"This equipment will be necessary in the future fight against Skynet."

At that John frowned.

"We came here to stop Skynet. Shouldn't you be here to try and help us?"

"Negative. I was not reconstructed to aid in your pursuit of Skynet's creators. My orders are to prepare for the arrival of Judgment Day."

Before John could say or ask anything else, they heard the door to their hotel suite open. Quickly pushing John behind him, Bob made his way to the living room, John trailing right behind him.

Once there, they were greeted by the sight of Cameron, whom was waiting patiently for their arrival. Upon seeing them, her head tilted to the side before she said, "Get the guns. We're leaving."

* * *

CA Medical Hospital: 16:33 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Stepping inside the front doors of the lab, Cromartie, dressed in several long hooded sweatshirts with medical wrappings around his face, walked down the hall bypassing the receptionist at the front desk before going through one of the double doors on his right.

With a ski mask present over his face, Cromartie was not concerned with the looks he received from the general public.

After all, in four years time, most of them would no longer exist.

Walking down the hall he had just entered, Cromartie stopped just in front of another door, this one leading to a blood transfusion storage room.

Opening the door and walking inside, Cromartie did a scan of the room, determining that it was the only sentient being inside.

Walking towards the glass cases that displayed the row upon row of packaged blood, Cromartie activated his CPU before scanning which blood type he would require for the reconstruction of his living tissue sheathe.

Finding a match of O+ plasma, Cromartie grabbed a cooling case before smashing the glass casing. Grabbing several packets, Cromartie started to place them inside the cooling case, completely ignoring the medical assistant that entered.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be in here!"

Seeing that Cromartie wasn't listening to him, the man walked over to him before grabbing onto his shoulder, trying to force him around.

"I told you-!"

That was when the man finally noticed that he was holding onto something that was oddly shaped. Oddly shaped and hard as steel.

"What the?"

Snapping his head towards him, Cromartie shut the case closed before lifting it under his right arm. Reaching with his left, he grabbed the medical assistant around the neck before lifting him in the air. With a sharp movement of his wrist, he heard the audible sound of the man's neck snapping before he flung him through the door, breaking it off its hinges before the man's body landed on top of it in a heap.

Stepping through the room and into the hall, Cromartie turned to his left, witnessing a security guard making his way down the hall.

Upon seeing him and destruction of the door and the dead body on the ground, he attempted to pull out his gun as Cromartie started to make his way towards him.

As soon as he was able to pry his gun free from its holster, Cromartie was right in front of him.

Wrapping his hand around the guard's neck, he pulled the man into the air before he threw slammed him against the wall, the back of the man's head against the wall, rendering him unconscious. Flinging the man's unconscious form across the room, Cromartie watched as it landed on a cabinet of medical supplies, knocking it over and causing the supplies to topple onto the ground.

Turning his attention back to the way he had come in, Cromartie made his way back down the hall, completely set on his next target.

Dr. Isaac Fleming.

* * *

Baum Residence: 17:43 Hours; Los Angeles California…

* * *

As soon as they had gotten back to the hotel, Sarah had Cameron go up to retrieve both Bob and John. The reason being was because she was still having trouble stomaching the revelations that were made in the car earlier.

Her son, John Connor, was a more or less what she had hated since that day back in May of 1984. A machine. A cold, heartless, emotionless machine.

And she could only blame herself for that.

Not only that, but her relationship, if she could even call it that at the time, with the female cyborg had changed.

'_Cameron'_, she mentally corrected.

She didn't know how or why, but they seemed to have a mutual understanding with one another. It was if, for that one instant, they connected.

Earlier today, she had resolved to keep Cameron around, to tolerate her presence seeing as she had already at that point wormed her way into John's heart.

She knew that she would never truly accept Cameron as something anywhere close to being human. She still had too much spite and hatred inside of her to accomplish that. But maybe…she could start treating her as something close to that. One day she may actually embrace her for what she was and not begrudge her for it.

For now however, she was perfectly content with treating her the same way she treated Uncle Bob. Indifferent, and if only a bit nicer.

And this is where Sarah currently found herself. Sitting down on the kitchen table of their newly acquired home. watching patiently as Cameron finally placed the last diamond back on the table, her scans complete.

"There is approximately $264,000 in the diamonds alone. The money from the safe house adds and additional 250K, totaling $514,000."

Gesturing for her to place the diamonds back in the bag, Sarah turned her gaze to John before she said, "We only need the cash for now. You keep the diamonds safe."

Understanding his role, despite how small it was, John nodded his head, a little put off by his mother's orders.

Opening the envelop in hand, Sarah then dumped the ID's on the table, finding several four sets of three licenses, passports, social security cards, and medical backgrounds respectively. Flipping through them idly, Sarah passed John his one of his sets before doing the same for Cameron and herself.

Grabbing his, John flipped through his before he looked up at his mom, a small smile playing on his lips.

"John Baum? Like the Wizard of Oz?"

Sarah gave an shrug before looking through her own passports again.

"The Wizard of Oz was your favorite book when you were a child. Sarah used to read it to you all the time, especially in Spanish."

Pausing, Cameron looked up at the John, flashing him another one of her smiles before she said, "Future John thought giving you an Id after the author of your favorite book had some humorous qualities to it."

Placing her current set back in the envelope, Cameron pulled out another set of IDs before she began flipping through the information.

"I disagreed."

John couldn't help but snort at her declaration and at his future self's sense of humor. Then again, the more he thought about, the more he started to get the idea of what he was trying to do.

"This will be an adequate alias."

Taking a look at the passport she had in hand, John saw a picture of Cameron, the one that was used for her school ID if he wasn't mistaken. Beside that it had her new alias name, which John was quick to note wasn't similar to his or his mother's new surnames.

"Um…Cam? This says your name is Cameron Gordon. Shouldn't it be Baum?"

Though she appeared to still be going through their fake IDs, John knew that his mother was listening.

Cameron for her part, looked pensive before she shook her head.

"No. As we are going to be enrolled into school tomorrow, and seeing as I will have to be around your presence constantly, it will serve us better if I were to not be seen as your 'sister.' Doing so would bring unwanted attention and questions that can not be answered."

Not able to find a logical response, John looked to Sarah for support. With her lips drawn in a firm line and her eyes focused entirely on the medical reports in front of her, John immediately knew he was not going to receive any aid from her part.

Giving a disgruntled sigh, John consented. In retrospect, her idea had merit, and there was no real faults in her plan, compared to the large gapping one that she had found in what had been their original one.

That was when Sarah decided to speak.

"We need leads, any clues as to who created Skynet."

"Negative."

John and Sarah looked up to see Uncle Bob entering the kitchen, John's satchel in hand. Placing it down on the table, he turned his gaze towards Sarah before saying, "It is not a mission priority to stop Skynet. Judgment Day is inevitable."

"Yeah well I don't believe you."

Turning her gaze back to Cameron, Sarah said scathingly, "You said you knew when Skynet was created. Where. Or were you lying about that too?"

With an impassive look on her face, Cameron replied, "No. I wasn't lying."

Pulling idly at a lock of her hair, Cameron stated in a monotone, "Bob is correct however. Stopping Skynet is not a priority. To do so would put our current mission in jeopardy."

"Please."

Turning her gaze towards John, she saw the desperation in his eyes. And she felt a twinge of sorrow creep into her at the sight. He wanted this to end so badly. He wanted to stop Judgment Day from being a reality, a feat that was theoretically impossible.

She explained that much to him already, but he still held onto the hope, the possibility that it could all end.

Hope was something that could be compared or linked to sheer stupidity.

But John wasn't stupid.

He just had hope. Hope and faith. Things that the Resistance was lacking until his arrival. Things that he would no doubt lack at his worst moments.

Then the image of a future John Connor came to mind. One without hope, without faith. One who would fight the War Against the Machines with nothing but hatred and anger.

And she wanted to prevent that.

"Alright. We'll help."

John smiled, the hope and happiness shining in his eyes.

She smiled in return.

And for some reason, she was certain that the same emotions that were in John's eyes were reflecting in her own.

* * *

**Terminator Units/Classes:**

* * *

**T-800 Series; Model 101 (Uncle Bob):**

**Outdated Terminator Unit. No Longer Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; N/A.**

**Primary Mission Objective; PROTECT JOHN CONNOR. (In Progress)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; CREATE WEAPON/EQUIPMENT STORAGE HOUSE FOR HUMAN RESISTANCE. (In Progress)**

**Third Mission Objective; UNKNOWN. (Complete)**

**Fourth Mission Objective; UNKNOWN. (In Progress)**

**STATUS: ACTIVE.**

* * *

**T-888 Series; Model (Cromartie):**

**Advanced T-850 Terminator Unit. Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; Infiltration.**

**Primary Mission Objective; TERMINATE JOHN CONNOR. (In Progress)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; INITATE SELF REPAIR. (In Progress)**

**STATUS: ACTIVE.**

* * *

**TOK-715 Series; Model (Cameron Phillips):**

**Unknown Terminator Unit. Mass Production; Unknown. First Series Model In Field. Primary Function; Infiltration. Secondary Function; Termination.**

**Primary Mission Objective; PROTECT JOHN CONNOR. (In Progress)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; SALVAGE DAMAGED T-800 REMAINS. CONSTRUCT/REPAIR NEW BODY. (Complete)**

**Third Mission Objective; ASSIST T-800 SERIES IN CONSTRUCTION OF FUTURE RESISTANCE WEAPONRY AND SUPPLIES. (In Progress)**

**Fourth Mission Objective; LOCATE JOHN CONNOR AND TIME TRAVEL TO YEAR 2007. (Complete)**

**Fifth Mission Objective; LOCATE 'SAFE HOUSE' AND CONTACT FIRST LIEUTENANT DEREK THOMAS REESE, 132****nd**** S.O.C; TECH-COM. (Complete)**

**STATUS: ACTIVE.**

* * *

**//-/Author Note/-//**

**Finally done with chapter 7! My longest chapter yet! 29 pages, excluding the author notes and terminator statistics! Anyway, Cromartie finally makes an appearance, as does Ellison. A little more in depth look at Cameron and the future, including a little bit of communication between Uncle Bob and John. Derek is introduced, as well as the other resistance fighters, which play an important role later in the story.**

**And before I forget, I've updated my profile with what I plan on doing with the What Should Have Been Series. I plan on updating it again with more details. If you want to see my other stories and what I plan on doing with them, an explanation is there for them as well.**

**Anyway, this ends the author note. Remember to review and tell me what you think. Criticism is welcomed as always. Until next time! :P**


	8. First Days and First Dates

Summary: Takes place after the Season Finale Episode, _"Born to Run." _My own thoughts on the Terminator Series and the concept of John Connor. Will be a combination of my own storyline and that of the Sarah Connor Chronicles.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles is owned by Fox Productions.**

**Rating T- For Language and Violence. Rating Subjected to Change.**

* * *

Chapter 8- First Days and First Dates

* * *

John felt uncomfortable. And there was only a few things in the world that made John Connor uncomfortable. First and foremost involved a metal endoskeleton with living tissue over it pointing a gun start at his head. Second involved girls. Pretty teenaged girls.

Now add those to together, and you get the one thing in the world that could bring John Connor to his knees.

Cameron Phillips.

Or rather, Cameron Gordon.

He wasn't uncomfortable with her presence, far from it. He enjoyed the time he spent with his female protector. They connected on a level that John hadn't once experienced in his short life. Not until now that is.

No, what made him uncomfortable was the fact that they were heading to their new school, Campo de Cahuenga High School, and he was nervous on how Cameron would act.

Form the short time that he had known the female Terminator, he was able to gather a few points of her personality. One of which being that she was very demanding.

Demanding and manipulating.

This was only confirmed based on the treatment she was receiving from his mother. While not up to par with his treatment of her, his mother was being nicer to her. Or, at the very least, was using her name now.

"Okay, just blend in okay?"

At Cameron patronizing gaze, John wanted to smack himself.

"Right. Forget I said anything."

Deciding to spare himself from embarrassing himself further, John took a glance to his left, his attention immediately brought over to a door just to the side of the building. The reason this caught his attention was because of a the state it was in.

The door's frame was sprayed black, as was the glass screen with the letter A printed on the front of it. Pondering on what it meant, John received his answer when Cameron decided to speak, noticing his puzzled expression.

"It is a reenactment of a trompe-l'œil fresco."

"So in other words…a graffiti?"

"A graffiti that depicts scenes or events that have already happened."

"Right."

Reaching the main entrance, John and Cameron walked inside the mass of students, trying to ignore the chatter of the students and listen to the shouts of what appeared to be security guards.

"Cell phones, hats, rings, and bling, in the basket please! Cell phones, hats, rings, and bling, in the basket!"

Restraining the urge he had to roll his eyes at the guards imitation of a broken record player, John threw his bag into the empty basket next to him before taking a glance at the entrance.

He froze at what he saw.

Metal detectors.

Six of them.

John felt a small bead of sweat make its way down his forehead.

'_This is not good.'_

Taking a glance at Cameron, whom seemed unaffected by the detection devices, merely removed her satchel before dumping it in her own basket, her necklace soon joining it.

Taking a deep breath, John walked through the detector, letting a silent sigh of relief when no alarm went off.

Heading towards his bag, John bit his lower lip anxiously as the security guard was checking though his bag. Turning his gaze back on Cameron, John felt his heart skip a beat as she attempted to walk through, only for a loud beeping to be heard.

'_Damn! Damn, damn, damn!'_

Quickly taking his bag from the guard, John all but sprinted towards his female protector, whom had just failed a second time in getting inside the school.

"Um excuse me? That's a close friend of mine."

"Yeah, well good for you."

Restraining the string of curse words that were about to leave his mouth, John replied, "No. What I mean is that she has a metal plate in her skull. A big one."

Mentally crossing his fingers, John hoped that the guard was stupid enough to believe his story.

Evidently, he was.

After waving the hand held metal detection device in his hand over her face for several minutes, much to Cameron's visible annoyance, the guard allowed her to pass.

Snatching her satchel, Cameron immediately took John's right side before walking alongside him, pausing only briefly to make a rude gesture to the guard's back, much to John's amusement.

"That man is…insufficient."

Shaking his head, John muttered, "Not insufficient. Just stupid."

"Yes. That too."

Grabbing her hand, John said, "Come on. We need to find the main office to get our schedules."

* * *

Cameron was not happy. That much was certain from the way she was walking to her first assigned class.

She and John had just gotten their schedules when Cameron immediately noted an inconstancy. Two of the classes they had requested were not adjacent in the same time slots. Further more, she was given a completely different class elective then the one she and John had both asked for.

She had asked politely why and how this had occurred. The secretary had stated that there was a maximum number of students per teacher, and that by adding her to the two class she had prearranged for, there would be need for another teacher to be in the room. And the school facility felt that it would be best if she were to simply switch her class times.

It was at that point that Cameron started to feel annoyed.

The secretary had gone on however, stating that the elective Cameron had asked for was also full, and that they had simply randomized the remaining open choices before selecting.

Cameron, now broadening at irritation, asked if it was possible to make an exception.

The secretary had rudely declined the notion, before adding a few snide words ranging from 'ungrateful' to 'rude'.

Cameron was now feeling a combination of indignation and anger.

Before she could reach out and 'persuade' the secretary in changing her mind, John and stepped in and grabbed her wrist. His eyes then met hers in a silent demand.

Don't.

So she relented.

For the moment.

And this is where she currently found herself. Outside her English classroom and temporary homeroom.

Entering with a grimace on her face, Cameron sat in the very back row, her CPU contemplating a non lethal method of obtaining what she wanted.

So far, she had nothing short of hacking the school database and changing the class schedules by hand.

She snapped out of her thoughts as the class started filling in and teacher started the class.

Squat with blonde ringlets for hair and teal colored eyes, the woman that was no doubt the English instructor stepped to the board before tapping it with her knuckles, gaining their attention.

With a large smile that looked fake and middle aged features, the woman started to speak once the class had quieted down.

"Good morning class. Today we have a new student. Would you please stand up and introduce yourself miss?"

Not in the best of moods, which had steadily worsened when the woman had asked for her to introduce herself, Cameron stood up, a slightly sour expression on her face.

"My name is Cameron Gordon. I just recently moved here from Nevada. My mother died during child birth and my father isn't home very often. He works in the military and creates advanced, fully functional prosthetic limbs for soldiers who've been wounded in battle. My favorite color is purple and I have an interest in mechanics. My hope for the future is to assist mankind to a better future."

Not exactly a lie in any sense. Her mother was truly dead, she had killed her with her own hands. Her father, Skynet, wasn't home very often because he, it, simply didn't exist yet. And he would work for the military eventually, and the metal endoskeleton limbs from Terminators would actually make good prosthetic limbs. As for mechanics, it wasn't so much an interest, but a necessity, one that John had made sure to have programmed into her chip upon her departure from the future.

As for mankind having a better future, that was what she was sent for, wasn't it? To ensure that the Human Resistance was better prepared for the eventual arrival of Judgment Day and the war that it would bring.

Nodding here head a bit as if assuring herself, Cameron calmly waited for her instructor to ask her to sit down again. Upon the woman's request, Cameron quickly sat herself down.

"Thank you for your introduction Ms. Gordon. Now, my name is Mrs. Lensway. Today we are going to start on William Blake and his contributions to the movement or Romanticism."

Deciding that the lesson wasn't worth listening in too, Cameron tuned out the Mrs. Lensway and decided to engage in daydream scenario.

Her scenario consisted of 'what if' moment, in which John hadn't stopped her from wrapping her fingers around that woman's neck.

She smiled at the mental images that came to mind.

* * *

Verizon Wireless: 08:52 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Derek wondered what exactly he was doing. To be more specific, what he was doing inside a black Escalade EXT with the woman who had threatened to shoot him the previous day. Who had again threatened to shoot him among other things if he didn't tell her what information they had on Skynet.

He wasn't sure on how she found out about their little reconnaissance missions, though thinking back on the previous day, realized she had probably saw all the newspaper clippings and photos that was lying on the floor when she and John arrived.

Either that, or the metal bitch told her.

Hopeful it was the second. Derek still needed an excuse to shot her after all. Taking a side glance at Sarah, whom was watching their target with rapt attention, she took on the appearance of an experienced solider.

And that couldn't be anywhere closer to the truth then it already was.

With a small grin forming on his face, Derek had to silently admit one thing about the female Connor. She was tough. A lot tougher then most of the Resistance Fighters that he knew. She was a lot tougher then Jesse, that was for sure.

At the thought of his dead lover, Derek's expression immediately sobered.

Jesse Flores. It had been years since he had last thought about her.

He remembered when they had first met, back when Connor had taken control of the Resistance and placed himself as leader. It was his first official mission under the newly assembled Tech-Com Division, and though he had done more missions then he could count beforehand, he was nervous.

He was nervous because at that time, they weren't fighting to survive. They were fighting to win a war that until Connor's arrival, seemed to only be a dream that he had so badly wanted to be a reality.

And then he met Jesse.

She and her own faction had joined John after he demonstrated his skills when he had successfully took on three T-888's, taking them down and removing their chips.

It was at that memory that Derek felt a frown etch itself on his forehead.

Jesse had been one of John's strongest supporters, and often would threaten other soldiers to follow his lead, more often than not with a barrel glaring down at them. He had been an unfortunate victim in that scenario.

And that was how they met. With him, once second in command of his brother's Resistance faction, and the next, a Corporal assigned the task of finding a weapons cache that John's mother had apparently left hidden in the desert in Mexico.

He was the one that verbally protested, arguing that it had to be some years since then, and that most likely someone had already beaten them to it, or worse, the machines did.

That was the first time he had ever been accused of insubordination. It was the first time John had broken his nose. At that thought, Derek felt a bit of morbid amusement.

It certainly wasn't the last time he did it either.

Snapping out of his thoughts at the sound of his name, Derek turned his gaze to his right, noticing Sarah's green eyes narrowed in a glare that was directed in his direction.

"I've been calling your name for the past few minutes. A response would actually be helpful."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Derek grumbled, "Whatever."

Looking out the window and staring at the individual they were watching, Derek said airily, "We should kill him."

He literally could feel the holes that were burning in the back of his skull from Sarah's glare.

"We don't kill him. We watch and see if he's a threat or not."

Feeling his ire starting to grow, Derek gave an unattractive snort before he said, "He is a threat, trust me. He creates Skynet. That should be reason enough to put a bullet in his skull."

"He's works as a cell phone salesman."

"And he worked at Cyberdyne under Miles Dyson before you blew it up. He went to CalTech University and was one of the school's top computer programmers. He's a threat, whether you like it or not."

Derek knew that he was pissing the woman off, and with her threat of shooting him still in air, he found himself not caring very much.

'_After all'_, he thought grimly. _'I've suffered worse.'_

With his mind taking him back to the events of when he was trapped in a Skynet torture facility, to the time he spent in that basement, made a small shiver run down his spine.

"We can't kill him. If we do, then we're no better the machines."

So she was going to try and play on his moral compass? At that thought, Derek smiled crookedly. Guess it was a good thing he didn't have any morals.

"Lady, I've killed machines and humans alike. One more won't make a difference to me. I'll still be able to sleep tonight."

Next thing Derek knew, he was cradling his jaw, a large bruise starting to form on the spot Sarah had struck him.

Glaring at the woman with tears leaking from his eyes, Derek growled, "What the hell was that for?!"

Sarah, whom was now rubbing her sore knuckles, just gave him a menacing smirk.

"Don't call me lady."

Grumbling, Derek continued to rub his jaw, glaring at the person they were monitoring.

He would complete his mission. He would kill Andy Goode, Sarah Connor be damned.

* * *

Campo de Cahuenga High School: 09:02 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Cameron never truly understood the complicity of the human female mind. Yes, she was female, but she was also a machine, one with a brain far superior then that of a human being. As such, she was able to think every situation and problem through logically with the absolute amount of precision and detail required. She prided herself with this fact.

She was far superior to all previous T Units, and she felt capitalized by that fact. She was the ultimate infiltrator. She could understand human behavior like no other, a feat that none of her predecessors could come close to claiming.

But even she had a limit.

Approximately three minutes ago, she had walked into the girls restroom down the hall from her English class at the bell.

Once she entered, Cameron noted how crowded the room was, and studied the mass of females with a critical eye.

The majority of them were in front of the sink mirrors, applying various shades of cosmetics on their eyes, lips, and cheeks. Others were swapping articles of clothing, while the remains of the group were gossiping about current events in the world.

Focusing her eyes on two females in particular, Cameron noted their interaction.

One, the tallest and by appearance looked to be of Hispanic descent, was applying makeup, eyeshadow to be exact, while the other, the shortest whom seemed to be of a mixed heritage, was fiddling anxiously with her shirt.

"I love this color. Its tight right? This color's tight."

"What color is it?"

"Rash."

The other girl smiled.

"That's so tight."

Fiddling with the straps of her bag before pulling down on her shirt again, the girl's face morphed into one of disgust as she looked herself over again.

"I'm a pig. I look like I'm pregnant."

Turning her gaze towards Cameron, she gestured to herself before directing her gaze back towards the mirror.

"Does this make me look fat?"

Cameron processed the question rather quickly, trying to come up with an acceptable answer. Deciding that honesty was the best policy, she droned out, "Yes."

Both girls seemed stunned by her words before they both turned their gazes towards her respectively.

"What the hell? What's your problem?"

Yes. Cameron definitely didn't understand the female mind.

"You asked."

Giving each other a disbelieving look, they returned their gaze back to her. Speaking up, the other girl said, "Bitch whore much?"

Cameron narrowed her eyes at the girl.

"You asked. I gave you an honest answer. If you don't like it, then that's not my problem. Next time, don't ask me."

She felt a large amount of satisfaction at the Hispanic girl's enraged expression.

Before either of them could say anything else, the bell ran, signaling the beginning of the next class. With mirrored expressions of loathing aimed at her, both females left, followed quickly by the remaining members of the bathroom, all of whom were engrossed in their own conversations that they completely ignored what had just transpired.

Noticing the compact left on the sink counters, Cameron grabbed it before flipping it open and looking at her reflection and the color choice inside. It was the one the Hispanic girl was using.

She glanced at the color of the cosmetic before doing a scan and matching it with her skin tone. It was a 91% match.

She had the fleeting thought of whether John would like it or not, and it was currently her free period. She was about to apply it when she heard a sob ringing throughout the restroom.

Registering the sound and locating where it was coming from, Cameron walked over to the cubical that was directly behind her.

Pushing it open, she came face to face with a blonde girl.

Other then the obvious distress and tear stains that dirtied her cheeks, Cameron came down to the conclusion that other then those two details, she was very pretty.

Tilting her head to the side in a gesture of curiosity, Cameron asked softly, "What's wrong?"

The girl didn't answer at first, instead glancing at both ends of the room, a surveillance tactic that Cameron immediately recognized.

"We're alone. Now why are you crying?"

"You saw it right?"

Cameron processed her memory bank of the last two hours and came down to the conclusion that the girl was referring to the graffiti on the door both outside the school and in the halls.

"Yes. I saw it."

Stepping by her and leaning over the sink, the girl continued frantically, "I mean, its so…freaking big, and right out there! Whoever's doing this is such a jackass! I mean, who would do this, and how would they even know?!"

Frowning, Cameron played back her words before realizing an inconstancy with her statements. "You're upset by this."

The girl gave her a disbelieving look.

"No kidding I'm upset! My life is freaking over!"

Ignoring her outburst, Cameron continued.

"Why? Why does the graffiti affect you so badly?"

The girl's eyes widened in horror. That was all Cameron need. Becoming a bit more aggressive in her questioning, Cameron stated, "A. Idan. They stand for something. An acronym perhaps? A name? Aidan?" Seeing the girl stepping back from her, Cameron felt prompted to continue her questioning, taking steps towards her to keep the distance between them short.

"Aidan is deferred from the word aide, which comes from aide-de-camp. The word is defined as a confidential assistant to a military officer. A counselor."

With her own eyes widening at her revelation, Cameron mouthed, 'guidance counselor' before fixing the girl another stare, this time her eyes downcast and her sobs renewing.

"Are you involved with the grief counselor here at school?"

The girl's sobs only increased in frequency and intensity.

Adjusting her satchel, Cameron fixed her a blank look.

"This would be considered rape and molestation. The guidance counselor could be charged and arrested. You can get in trouble for having a sexual relationship with a faculty member. Possibly be kicked out of school. Expelled."

If anything, the girl's crying got even worse.

Fingering the compact still clutched in her hand, Cameron asked, "How long have you've been involved?"

The girl didn't give a reply for two whole minutes before she whispered out hoarsely, "Since final exams last year."

"Almost four months then."

Feeling inquisitive, Cameron asked once more, "Why?"

This time, the girl understood the question and responded.

"I don't know. I-I was having problems with school, my parents and I were always fighting, I was going to be kicked off the cheerleading squad…"

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she wailed, "I just needed somebody…anybody who would listen to me! Help me! Mr. Harris found me in one of the closets on the second floor, and he offered to help me. He listened to me and offered advice. A few weeks later…we….we were…"

With the girl falling to her knees, she started to again cry.

Feeling a great deal of sympathy towards the teenager and anger at the guidance counselor for taking advantage of the frail female before her, Cameron bent down to her knees before wrapping her in a comforting hug.

Whispering encouraging words and running her hand through her hair, Cameron started to rub her back, soothing her sobs until they came out in small hiccups. After about five minutes and letting the girl relax and take a few deep breathes, Cameron directed her eyes towards her own before asking for her name.

"Jordon. My name is Jordon Cowan."

Making herself a bit more comfortable, Cameron wrapped Jordon in another hug before asking her to tell her story from the very beginning.

And she did. For the next hour, Cameron learned about both Jordon and Mr. Harris and their relationship, which fortunately for Jordon, hadn't progressed that far.

She felt her anger increase as Jordon stated that Harris had stopped communicating with her and avoided her in the halls since the graffiti appeared. He didn't return any of her calls, and flat out denied anything had been going on between the two of them. Apparently, his job was more important to him then Jordon's apparent infatuation with him.

It was a few minutes before the bell would ring signaling the end of her free period when Cameron decided it was time to go. After giving Jordon her phone number, and having her promise to call her if something else came up, Cameron left the restroom, fully aware of the heartfelt smile that was on Jordon's face.

Cameron wondered briefly is she would still be smiling if she knew what she planned on doing to Mr. Harris if she were ever alone with him.

Probably not.

* * *

Campo de Cahuenga High School: 10:05 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

John frowned slightly as he tried in vain to listen to his chemistry teacher's instructions. Eight years in the future, and the subject was still as dull as ever. If anything, it got even harder compared to what he had to learn back in 1999.

Coming to the conclusion that whatever the teacher had to say wouldn't stick in his head, John decided to spend the remaining time for class thinking about the girl that was currently sitting next to him, diligently taking notes.

While she wasn't model material, she was very pretty in her own right. High cheekbones, pale skin, long blonde hair, full lips, and a pair of green eyes, she was a pleasing sight to see. He wondered for a moment why nobody wanted to talk to her, but decided not to question. If anything, this might improve his chances of having her actually talk to him, but John didn't want to put a lot of hope into that.

For the whole duration of the entire class, she hadn't once glanced at him. Instead, she had taken to ignoring him and everyone around her. It was behavior he had recognized instantly, being one that he himself had implemented time and time again when his mother had forced them to move to another town.

What he didn't understand was why she was doing this. He was being chased down by killing machines and the US government, so trying to make friends was obviously going to present itself as a problem.

But she, as far as he could tell, shouldn't have a reason, or at least a very good one as to her strange behavior. Deciding to take a chance, John took a deep breath before whispering, "Hey."

Pausing in her notes, the girl turned her eyes towards his for a second before returning to her notes.

Not about to be brushed off, John decided to push his luck before saying softly, "What's your name?"

Not even glancing at him, she replied just as quietly, "Cheri. Cheri Westin. Can I finish taking my notes please?"

Deciding to take this on a different approach, John gave a light chuckle before he said, "Why? Its not going to get any easier by writing it down."

He let a smile grace his face as he saw Cheri's lips quirk to the side a little bit, indicating that she trying to fight down a smile.

For the remainder of the class, John and Cheri talked, though quietly, about themselves. Or as much of themselves as they were willing to give. For both parties, it wasn't much. All Cheri learned about John was that he lived with his mother and that she was often overprotective of him. 'Uptight' were his exact words. As for John, he learned, if it were possible, less about her then she him.

All he got was that she lived with her father and that he didn't like for her to communicate with people. In other words, make friends.

Before he could ask why, the bell had rung, singling the end of class.

Packing up her books and pushing her stool in, she gave John a contemplative look before she said, "I'll see you later I guess."

Turning on her heel, Cheri quickly vacated the room, John only a few steps behind her.

"Cheri! Hey, wait up!"

As soon as John had gotten outside the room, he found Cheri already at the other end of the hall, Cameron leaning against the wall outside his door, a compact in hand.

Deciding to let Cheri go for the moment, John walked towards his female protector, curiosity and worry his current emotions at the moment.

"Do you like this color on me?"

Feeling confused at her statement, John replied, "What?"

Smiling a bit and closing her eyes, Cameron repeated herself. "Do you like this color on me, John?"

Taking a closer look at her, John noticed the eyeshadow she had placed on during her time in her free block. And he had to admit, it did make her look even more attractive before.

Feeling his throat start becoming dry, John managed to croak out a small, "It looks good" before looking determinedly down the hall.

Though his reaction wasn't as satisfying as she had hoped, Cameron was still pleased non the less by John's endearment.

"I made a new friend."

Raising an eyebrow, John smirked before he said, "Really?"

"Yes. Her name is Jordon Cowan. She's a cheerleader. Only a year below us, a Sophomore."

Tilting her head to the side inquisitively, Cameron asked, "Did you make any friends yet John?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet. I have to talk to her again and see what happens."

Feeling a small amount of ire grow inside of her, Cameron felt her fist clench tightly for a second before relaxing itself.

"Really? What's her name?"

Unaware of the darkening mood that his female protector was in, John answered, "Cheri Westin. She kind of reminds me of myself back when my mom constantly moved us around."

Taking a glance at her, and noticing the bitter expression on her face, John placed his hand on Cameron's shoulder, drawing her attention back towards his face.

"You okay Cameron?"

Feeling her negative emotions disappearing at the sight of worry on John's face, Cameron interlaced her fingers with his before replying with, "Yes. I'm fine now."

* * *

Fleming Residence: 11:32 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Isaac Fleming was not a happy man. He had again just been denied funding for his life work on cellular regeneration, a method in which reconstruction of human tissue could be accomplished. It was revolutionary, and only few had pondered the idea, let alone work on it.

He was one of those few.

For the past ten years, he had single handedly revolutionized the medical world with his findings, winning several grants and loans from government officials and fellow colleges alike.

But for this one last grant, the one he so desperately needed, was denied time and time again.

And his frustration only continued to grow with each denial that was presented to him.

'_This is America isn't it?! The country known for its leaps and bounds of progress and human advancement?!'_

Shaking his head a bit and focusing on the conversation at hand, Isaac placed his briefcase and coat on his coffee table before saying into his cell phone, "What don't they ever give the money to the people on the cutting edge? They never do and…"

Trailing off, Isaac stared blankly at his shadow, which seemed larger and more bulky then his obvious thin and frail frame.

Turning his head behind him, he dropped his cell where it broke in half, stunned by the figure behind him.

Tall, intimidating, and covered from head to toe in various sweaters, jackets, and ragged and torn long-sleeved shirts, he stared in absolute fear into the figure's bandage covered face, the figures eyes covered by a ski mask while his mouth was hidden by a metallic covering.

Before he could utter a single word, the figure's hand wrapped around his throat, forcing him to take a strangled breath before he was lifted into the air, his resounding chokes echoing of the walls of his apartment walls.

Staring at his face and kicking his feet erratically in the air, Isaac tried in feeble attempt to get himself free.

With his captor staring at his face for a full three seconds, the man threw him across his room, causing a groan of pain to emanate from his mouth when he landed ungracefully on his back, sprawled legged on the ground.

Before he could rise to his feet, the man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt before throwing across the room again, this time with his form colliding with his couch.

With stars in his eyes, Isaac attempted to get his bearings and try to stand. Feeling a flare of pain shoot up his back, Isaac gave a small cry of pain before he eased himself back down on his couch, this time sitting up right.

Glancing up at his captor, whom was now standing on the other end of the room watching him, he felt dread enter his being.

The way he was staring at him was almost like he was…studying him. It was unnerving.

Taking a deep breath, he asked softly, "Who are you? What do you want?"

Pointing in the direction of the wall at the other end of the room, he heard a deep, scratchy, slightly mechanical voice say, "Read that."

Taking a glance at the wall, Isaac felt his heart start to beat erratically in his chest. It was a formula. Not just any formula, but one that he easily recognized.

It was for his life's work, his ultimate project, his ambition.

Cellular regeneration.

The formula, that he had tried and failed many times to perfect was in front of him, complete.

He couldn't believe it.

He refused to believe it.

Skimming through it, he found an inconstancy, and smiled to himself. _'I knew that this couldn't be right.'_

"No, that's, that's not possible. At that rate, you couldn't possible maintain cellular regulation or differentiation."

Turning around and gazing at the man, he said smugly, "Its not possible."

The man merely replied, "Possible."

Taking another look at the formula, and reading through it thoroughly this time, Isaac realized that the man was right.

"I can't believe it. Einstein was wrong, as was Newton. Dalton was right…but still wrong at the same time…"

Looking back at the man, he asked softly, "How is this possible…?"

"Can you do it?"

Isaac was flabbergasted at the man's question.

"I…well…I need the equipment from my lab, and I need blood. Lots of it. Preferable from a universal donor, O+."

Turning his head to the cooler that resting on the floor, the man returned his gaze back to Isaac before repeating his previous statement.

"Can you do it?"

Isaac returned his eyes back to the wall.

"Yes," he breathed. "I can."

* * *

Verizon Wireless: 12:43 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Sarah didn't know why she had entered the store. She had already purchased cell phones for herself and John, even getting a pair for Cameron and Bob as well.

She still didn't know why she did so, as they would be hanging around herself and John a lot, so all they really needed was a cell for just between each other.

Deciding this was something to bring up at a later time, she went up to the revolving shelves as she tried to pick four standard cell phones. Derek had complained on how she just barged into the four Resistance fighter's safe house unannounced. He had commented more then once during the three and a half hours she was stuck in the car with him on how she was lucky they hadn't shot her.

And to be honest, his comments had started to get on her nerves. So, she decided to come inside and buy him and his squad of fighters all a cell so she could call them in the event that she needed them, or vice versa.

It was either that or punching him again. And her knuckles were still sore from the last time she hit him.

So she improvised.

Feeling a presence behind her, she threw a causal glance over her shoulder, noticing her target watching her.

Part of her wanted to strangle the man as she noticed his eyes seemed glued to her ass, but thought better of it. She didn't want to kill him, not until she determined that he was threat. And if that was the case, she could always have Derek do it. God knows from the stories she was able to get out of him about his future war experiences that the man was trigger happy.

"Can I help you with something?"

Returning his eyes towards her own, the man, Andrew 'Andy' Goode gave her a charming smile. "Hey, that's my line!"

Sarah didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or roll her eyes at the joke. She choice neither, instead deciding to raise an eyebrow.

"Okay then. Can you help me choice four phones then? I really don't know what all these extra features have to do with anything."

Pretending to look at his name tag, Sarah added with a small flirtatious smile, "Andy?"

Sarah wished she hadn't said anything following the long explanation that Andy had given her for each and every phone she had been looking at, giving the pros and cons for each.

By the middle of his descriptions, she had interrupted him, deciding that she really didn't need to know everything about a phone. Unless it could shoot bullets or take out a Terminator, all she cared about was whether or not it could work in most areas.

Her answer came in a simply yes.

After walking up to the counter and paying for the phones, Sarah was about to walk out of the store when Andy had caught her arm when she was halfway out.

"Hold on! Um…would you like to go out with me tonight? That's not unless you have plans tonight?"

With the word 'no' just seconds from leaving her mouth, Sarah paused to think about his offer. This was a golden opportunity to infiltrate his house, maybe even figure out why he was such a danger to the future and what his involvement was with Skynet's creation.

Smiling for an entirely different reason then what Andy was probably thinking, Sarah said, "Alright. Where and when should I met you?"

Pulling out a pen and piece of paper, Andy quickly wrote down the address to his house before handing over to her, giving her instructions on how to get there and to arrive at six o'clock.

Nodding her head and accepting the time, Sarah walked back out to the car, immediately aware of the stare that Derek was throwing in her direction.

As soon as she entered the car, he gave her a scrutinizing gaze, silently demanding an explanation for what had just transpired.

Flashing him the piece of paper, Sarah gave a feral grin as she started the car.

"I just found us a way in."

Derek couldn't help himself and returned the grin full force.

* * *

Salceda Residence: 05:09 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Enrique Salceda did not believe himself to be a stupid man. He wasn't the brightest or smartest, seeing as he never finished the sixth grade, let alone going to high school, but he was street smart. And by that, he knew what a man who was on the run needed.

It wasn't necessarily a family business. Or at least it didn't start out that way.

His father was a pig farmer, and his mother was the care giver and provider for he and his younger siblings, Juan and Maria.

He was the first one of his family to actually attend school. Unlike his siblings however, he never finished. His father had gotten injured while working, and food still needed to be placed on the table. So by his padre's orders, he had dropout of school to instead work on the farm, doing all the errands that his father attended too.

By the time his father had finally gained the strength to continue working, the school semester had already ended, and he didn't really wish to continue his education.

A sacrifice is what he called it now.

Back then, it was pure laziness on his part.

He regretted that decision, not because he was unhappy with his life, far from it. Between his younger brother and sister, he had come out on top. He was the one with the riches, the penthouse apartment, the flocks of women who would cater to his every whim at the snap of his fingers.

No, he had everything he could possibly want now. It was shame that his wife still decided to stay in Mexico.

Hearing the someone knocking on his door, Enique quickly poured himself a drink before taking it down in one swing. Placing his glass down, he walked towards the door, not even wondering who would come and bother him at this time of night.

Opening the door, Enrique came face to face with 'Uncle Bob'.

At the thought of the name, Enrique could barely retain the snort that was about to release itself from his throat.

He had seen a lot of men and women that came up with several alias for whomever they were traveling with when they stumbled upon his safe haven, some more believable then others.

This was not one of them.

Plastering a fake smile, Enrique said in a slightly mocking tone, "Hola mi amigo! What can I do for you?"

'Bob' didn't give a response. Instead, he raised his left hand before delivering a powerful palm strike to his chest, shattering his sternum and separating his ribs.

Flying back several feet before colliding with the wall of his apartment, Enrique gave a strangled cry of pain, blood pouring from his lips as his lungs were no longer functioning correctly due to puncture wounds from his floating ribs.

Feeling a gloved hand wrap itself tightly around his neck, Enrique felt himself being slowly picked up from the ground before he became eye level with 'Bob'.

"W-w-what do want?! Help! Auyda me! AUYDA M-!"

With his grip on his neck tightening, Enrique gave a strangled cry as he felt his already short air supply lessen even more.

"You have been in contact with the FBI. You've informed them on the information regarding the whereabouts and current false identities of Sarah and John Connor."

With his voice now flat and devoid of emotion, 'Bob' continued.

"You are a threat to John. I cannot allow that."

Flinging the man across the room, Bob watched as Enrique landed in a heap on the ground, his breathing becoming hard and labored.

Pulling out a Glock 17 from his back pocket, he placed a new magazine in before walking towards his newest target.

Feeling himself being kicked onto his back, Enrique stared into the glowing red eyes of his assailant, fear and regret filling his heart and soul.

His father had always taught him that family always came first, before anything else.

It was at that moment that Enrique wished he got to see his family, his children, wife, nephew, one last time.

It was at this moment that Enrique regretted meeting Sarah Connor. It was at this moment he wished he never agreed to help the woman in her time of need. To become infatuated with the image of a strong, independent, die hard woman that she was.

Because if he hadn't met Sarah Connor, he wouldn't have contacted the FBI and told them of their arrival. He wouldn't have betrayed her, and he probably wouldn't be facing down the end of a gun.

That would by the last thought that ever crossed his mind as Bob spoke three words before pulling the trigger, ending his life.

"You are terminated."

* * *

Fleming Residence: 05:37 Hours; Los Angeles California...

* * *

Isaac Fleming couldn't believe his eyes.

It worked. It actually worked.

Cellular regeneration. The ability to re-grow lost tissue within a matter of hours.

And it was at his fingertips.

Finally, after years of struggle, of ridicule, of dead ends and sleepless nights, he would gain the recognition he deserved.

He watched in utter fascination as the man, whom had revealed himself to be a metal skeleton, rose from the tub of blood, living tissue now covering his body. While it was deformed in shape, it was still in his eyes perfection.

A perfection of his own genius.

Stepping forward and pulling out a scalpel, Isaac carefully cut open the eyelids apart. Staring into the red orbs of the machine's eyes, Isaac didn't know where to begin his line of questioning. What exactly was this thing? How did it know the solution to the regeneration formula, and further more, why did it come to him?

These were among the first few of the dozens upon dozens of questions that were running through his mind.

It was unfortunate he would never receive an answer to those questions.

* * *

Goode Residence: 07:45 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Sarah had come to Andy's house, dressed causally in a pair of black dress pants and a white, sleeveless v-neck top. Tied around her waist was her now current favorite choice of clothing, her gray faded denim jacket.

Her hair, which she had put up in a ponytail, was now cased over her shoulders as she walked alongside Andy, a smile on lighting her face.

Tonight, though it was never intended to be this way, had been one of the best in her life. Even though they went out to a small diner, and while other women were sure to complain about Andy being cheap, Sarah saw him for his more endearing qualities.

Smart, sincere, caring, and funny, Andy was essentially what she was looking for in a man back when she was dating. Planned or otherwise, Sarah enjoyed the night she spent with him.

And unfortunately, it was coming to an end.

During the progress of their date, Derek had broken into Andy's house, searching the place for whatever he could or already built that would eventually become Skynet.

He found it in the shape of a large computer that was titled 'The Turk'. Apparently, it was built in the image of the first AI that was specifically designed to play chess. Evidently, so was this one, except it was taken to another level.

Unlike the first Turk, which had preprogrammed moves and plays placed inside its hard drive, this second one was designed to learn on its own, develop with each and every move it made. It could learn from its mistakes, or so Andy told her after she brought up the subject of conversation to the possibilities of an AI.

That was enough for Sarah. Excusing herself to use the ladies room, Sarah had called Derek immediately and told him to destroy the machine.

"Make it look like an accident. We don't want the cops to track us."

Snapping out of her thoughts and taking a deep breath, Sarah stopped in her tracks before looking at the night sky, a look of concern plastered on her face.

"Andy?"

Following her gaze, she felt Andy's grip on her hand tighten as he noticed the layers of black smoke rising into the air.

And it was coming from the direction of his house.

Releasing his grip on her hand, she watched as he ran towards his house, a desperate plea of, "God, please no" escaping his lips.

Calmly walking behind him at an even pace, Sarah hid herself behind a tree as she watched Andy collapse to his knees, a strangled cry escaping his throat as his house burned to the ground in front of him.

Feeling someone's presence behind her, Sarah murmured, "Its done. You destroyed it, right?"

Nodding his head, Derek replied softly, "Yeah. Its gone."

In an act of kindness that Sarah didn't know the man was capable of, Derek placed his hand on her shoulder before saying, "You did the right thing Sarah. Burning his house to destroy the Turk was the only option we had aside from killing him."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Um…yes?"

Feeling a small bubble of happiness work its way into her being, Sarah turned her gaze towards the Reese brother.

"Thanks."

Derek fought to keep the smile off his face.

"Not a problem."

Gesturing to the car, Derek drove Sarah back home. After dropping her off, he drove back to Goode's house, finding the man still on his knees, a firefighter trying in vain to coax him into standing.

A part of him felt bad for what happened to the man. He had lost everything of value in one instant. His life's work, dreams and hopes, gone, burned in the flames of his home.

But that small piece of guilt was crushed in an instant. Goode should be grateful that he was dead yet.

Derek could only hope that the man didn't try to rebuild the Turk, because if he did, not even Sarah would be able to stop him from ending the man's life once and for all.

* * *

**Terminator Units/Classes:**

* * *

**T-800 Series; Model 101 (Uncle Bob):**

**Outdated Terminator Unit. No Longer Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; N/A.**

**Primary Mission Objective; PROTECT JOHN CONNOR. (In Progress)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; CREATE WEAPON/EQUIPMENT STORAGE HOUSE FOR HUMAN RESISTANCE. (In Progress)**

**Third Mission Objective; UNKNOWN. (Complete)**

**Fourth Mission Objective; TERMINATE ENRIQUE SALCEDA. (Complete)**

**STATUS: ACTIVE.**

* * *

**//-/Author Note/-//**

**Sorry it took so long to update! This past week has been hectic for me, but on the plus side, I am an official high school graduate! Now since I have nothing else to look forward too other then college, I can focus a bit more on my writing.**

**Anyway, this chapter took me forever to write simply because I didn't know what to do with it. There was a lot that I wanted to change, but I didn't know how to go about it at the time.**

**Besides that, I've introduced some lesser characters back into the story, and decided to give them a larger role in the story. Namely Cheri and Jordon. Both will play important roles later as the story progresses.**

**A little more of a look into Cameron's development and emotions, as well as a bit of interaction between Derek and Sarah.**

**As always, remember to review and criticism is encouraged and welcomed.**


	9. Metal vs Metal

Summary: Takes place after the Season Finale Episode, _"Born to Run." _My own thoughts on the Terminator Series and the concept of John Connor. Will be a combination of my own storyline and that of the Sarah Connor Chronicles.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles is owned by Fox Productions.**

**Rating T- For Language and Violence. Rating Subjected to Change.**

* * *

Chapter 9- Metal vs. Metal

* * *

Baum Residence: 09:53 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Two weeks. That's how long its been since she had burned down Andy Goode's house, thus destroying the Turk.

And she still had mixed feelings about it.

On one hand, she prevented one piece of technology that would evidently become Skynet in the future. On the other, she had ruined a man's life and destroyed his dreams. A man that she had grown to like. Not romantically, she still hadn't gotten over Charley, seeing as it had in reality been seventeen days since she's seen him, while for him, it'd be a little over eight years.

At the thought of Charley, Sarah felt her heart throb.

Charley Dixon was a kind man. More then a kind man, he was the type of man that she spent several years of her youth trying to find. She thought she found it in Stan Morski, her boyfriend during her time in 1984.

In retrospect she realized, with a vain smile, that they had only gone out on a few dates, three to be exact. The fact that he asked her out on more, to her anyway, meant that he was seeking a little something long lasting.

Either that, or getting into her pants if his constant flirting over the few dinners they shared amounted to anything.

Then there was Kyle.

She felt her heart break at the mere mention of his name.

Kyle. She loved him. Even for the two days that she had been with him, where the majority of the first being spent thinking that the man was insane, she had fallen in love with him.

She had wondered during the duration of her pregnancy if she truly 'loved' Kyle, or if it was just the spur of moment of hearing Kyle confess his feelings for her. And then it brought up another question.

Did Kyle even really love her? From what Cameron had told her of John, he was ruthless in gaining what he either wanted and needed.

What if Kyle coming back to the past was something that John saw as necessary? What if he had brainwashed Kyle into thinking that he truly did love her? Or worse, what if John had ordered Kyle to impregnate her, her feelings and Kyle's be damned?

None of the scenarios in her head granted her any peace of mind, and it only intensified her already growing doubts concerning their relationship.

Shaking her head, Sarah decided to put these thoughts in the back of her head for the moment as her phone started to ring.

Checking the caller ID and seeing that it was Salyes, Sarah flipped it open before hitting the appropriate keys, waiting a for a response. Hearing the return code beeped back, she answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Sarah? Its Salyes."

"I know that. What I want to know is why you're calling me."

She heard Salyes mutter something before his voice came back over the line. "You got today's newspaper?"

Reaching over for the discarded item, Sarah muttered, "Yeah, what of it?"

"Check the front page."

Flipping the paper, Sarah read the title before skimming through the article.

"Colton shipment?"

Hearing Salyes muttering again, this time able to pick out the words, "…stupid little…damnit…"

Deciding to ignore the man's whispering, Sarah ventured, "Salyes? You still there?"

"Uh…yeah. Question though. Were you, John, and the machine followed by any chance?"

Sarah frowned.

"No. From what I was able to gather, the bank exploded. Anything left in there should have been killed."

"Not from what I'm seeing."

Now Sarah felt her curiosity and anger rising at the man's cryptic answers.

"What? What are seeing right now? And if you give me one more vague answer, I'm going to-!"

"Okay! Okay! Just settle down already!"

After talking a few calming breathes, Sarah asked for Salyes to continue.

"Right. Anyway, I got a copy of the video footage of when you guys came out of the time displacement sphere back in September. By zooming in on you, I was able to catch something over your right shoulder."

Feeling nervous all of a sudden, Sarah asked, "What? What did you see?"

Salyes didn't reply for a few seconds before his voice broke the silence, soft and full of worry.

"A skull. A metal skull."

At that, Sarah felt her heart stop. With the images of the bank coming back to mind, Sarah whispered out softly, "Cromartie?"

"Sarah? Sarah you still there?"

Snapping out of her thoughts, she quickly started firing off questions at Salyes, ranging from how he was sure that it was a metal skull, what this shipment of colton had anything to do with Cromartie, and what he intended on doing about it.

"Slow down and let me explain!"

Quieting down for the moment, Sarah resolved herself to carry out his demand for the moment.

"I don't know who this Cromartie is or what he has to do with you and John, but all I do know is that the only way to kill a metal is by destroying its power cells or its chip. Since its skull was removed, meaning that it can be reattached, it'd be safe to assume that its still out there, no doubt trying to repair itself."

Sarah for her part, wasn't thrilled at the news.

"We have to move again. Staying here with that machine out there is to dangerous."

"And what? Hide and hope that he doesn't find you? Its what they do Sarah, nothing will change that. No matter how hard you pray or how fortified a place you find to hide, they will find you."

Realizing that the young man's words were nothing short of true, Sarah calmed herself down before she addressed the article and colton.

Salyes then explained that colton was what the T units from the 888 Series and above were constructed with. With a superior melting point and more durability, they were superior soldiers in comparison to Skynet's other units.

"That's why I'm calling. I think that machine, Cromartie or whatever its name is, has gone after the colton. To have a fire placed at a docking point only to have the shipment redirected to Los Angeles, a place where Skynet conducts its main operations, is to closely related to be put off as coincidental. If the machine gets its hands on that colton, it'd have enough to make hundreds of Terminators. We need to stop that shipment. Timms and I have already tracked the ship and the pier number. We need you to go there and stop the shipment."

Frowning, Sarah asked, "Why can't you do it? You have all the information that you need. It should be easy for you guys to blow that place to hell."

"It would if we have the proper equipment. We were sent back to get you the IDs and money, nothing else. Going on reconnaissance was Derek's idea, and as our superior officer, we had to agree. You have the machine with you, two if I remember correctly. That should be more then enough to help you if that metal shows up. As for the equipment to blow the place to hell, you're wanted on domestic terrorism right?"

Ignoring Salyes' last comment, Sarah grabbed a pen before flipping the newspaper on its back again, finding an empty spot in the corner edge of it.

"The pier number. Now."

* * *

Pier 128: 10:47 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

"So let me get this straight. Inside this warehouse is about dozens of boxes of colton which are used to create the endoskeletons for Terminators?"

Nodding her head while still peaking through the open window of the warehouse, Sarah said, "That about sums it up."

Shaking his head slightly, John joined his mother in looking through the window before he muttered, "And what's so important about the colton? Why does Skynet want it?"

Stepping behind him and look over his head, Cameron whispered, "Colton is used as a replacement to the hyper titanium alloy Skynet had used for the construction of the T-600 through T-850 Series endoskeletons. Because of their higher melting points, the probability of surviving multiple plasma blasts from Resistance weaponry increased."

At that, Sarah smirked.

"You know what I love about you guys? Even when you've evolved into the ultimate, destructive, killing machine, you're not above self examination or improvement."

Processing her words in her CPU, and realizing she was being teased, Cameron childishly poked her tongue at Sarah, whom did the same thing in return.

John, watching the two interact, tried in vain to stop the laughter that wanted to escape his throat. Instead, he was able to convert it into a snort and bout of coughing.

Calming down slightly, John gestured to the warehouse before he said, "How many endoskeletons can you make out of what's here?"

Stopping her temporary feud with Sarah at the moment, Cameron did a scan of the warehouse, counting the amount of boxes and max capacity of colton they could hold.

"There is approximately enough colton to construct exactly 530 endoskeletons."

Giving a low whistle, John gave Cameron a contemplative look.

"Doesn't take much to build an endoskeleton does it?"

Shaking her head, Cameron said, "No. It doesn't."

Looking into the warehouse, Cameron took a sharp intake of air, bringing the female Connor's attention back on her.

"What? What is it?"

Pointing to the man in the military uniform, Cameron whispered, "Terminator Unit."

Looking into the window again, Sarah saw the man walk up to one of the colton cases before lifting it up with ease. Turning towards the truck, the man, now officially identified as a Terminator, walked towards the open unit before dumping the box inside.

"Definitely a machine. Is it Cromartie?"

Having told John and Cameron earlier of what Salyes had reported, they already knew of the high possibility of Cromartie making appearance. All they had to go with was that it wouldn't be for a while, which gave them time to prepare.

"No. His endoskeleton isn't the appropriate size. He's too short."

Taking a closer look at the T-Unit, John realized to a certain extent that she was right. Cromartie, while admittedly not being able to recall or make an estimate at his exact height, was certainly much taller then the machine before him.

"If it isn't Cromartie, then who is it?"

Cameron held no answer for him.

They continued to watch as the machine continued to load the colton onto the truck, finishing just before four men arrived, all wearing identical military issued uniforms.

Giving them instructions to get into the truck, the Terminator, identified as 'Carter' by his fellow workers, walked off to the army standard jeep.

Deciding it was time to go, Sarah nudged John's side, bringing his attention back to her.

"We need to go."

At that, John frowned.

"Mom, they're getting away. We need to follow them, find out where the colton is going to go."

Reaching forward and grabbing John by his arm, Sarah pulled him to her side, her eyes narrowed in disapproval.

"We're outnumbered John. Its too risky."

With a tilt of his head, John gestured towards Cameron. "We have her."

Cameron frowned at the inclination.

"I am insufficient. Chances of fighting off a T-888 Unit with four armed accomplices is hazarding to my mission to protect you."

Fixing John a intensive stare, she chided, "You could get injured in the resulting fight. Severally."

John for his part, restrained the urge to roll his eyes.

"So we run basically? I thought we were done running?" John then directed his gaze to his mother. "You promised to stop it, remember? How are you going to do that if every time a lead comes up, you hesitate to take a chance?"

Sarah felt her jaw clench. "Because if there is a possibility of you getting hurt or worse, then it isn't worth investigating. Like it or not John, you are irreplaceable. You die, and its over. They win. Don't forget that."

John had the manners to look sheepish before he gave a nod, indicating that he understood what his mother was talking about.

Taking this small victory, Sarah placed her hand on John's head, running her fingers through his hair. "We'll think of something. For now, we need to back up a bit, slow down. Take baby steps. If we're going to do this, then we are going to do it right."

Already moving down the path that led to the EXT, Sarah and Cameron were about halfway there before they stopped, noticing immediately the sound of only two pair of feet walking instead of three.

Turning around abruptly, Sarah and Cameron felt a jolt of fear run through them as they saw John's legs sticking out of the warehouse window they were just looking in moments ago.

Not even wasting a second, both females ran towards him, fully intent on grabbing John's legs before dragging him back out and to safety.

Before they were even a few yards from him, John slipped through the window, Cameron appearing just at the exact spot he was standing at only a few moments ago.

With anger clearly expressed on her face and tone, Sarah hissed, "John! Get back here!"

Acting as if he hadn't heard her, John crouched low to the ground before moving towards the truck that contained the colton. Slipping inside unnoticed, John quickly turned his phone on before placing discreetly on the top of the crates. Satisfied with his work, John was about to leave when he felt his blood run cold at the sight in front of him.

One of Carter's men was inside the truck, his back turned, trying to bring the crate down, which would effectively seal him inside.

Not wasting a second, John scrambled on top of the crates, hoping to whatever deity that existed that he wasn't caught or heard.

Evidently, his prayers were answered.

The man ignored his presence, slamming the crate shut, sealing himself and unbeknownst to him, John inside the truck.

Only one thought registered in John's mind once his only exit route was sealed before him.

'_Crap. Mom's going to kill me.'_

Unfortunately for him, John had no clue on how close that assumption was.

"I'm going to kill him!"

Not giving her the grace of her attention, Cameron ignored Sarah's declaration in favor of determining a means of rescuing John.

Nothing short of marching in and forcing the crate open came to mind, and she immediately discarded the idea, knowing the ramifications if it were to be implemented.

Seeing the truck and jeeps start pulling out

"HEY!"

Stopping momentarily, both females turned their heads in the direction of the sound, noticing one of Cromartie's men standing a few feet behind them, a Berretta 92 in hand.

Walking towards them slowly, he gave them each a once over before snarling, "Who are you and what did you see in there?"

Sarah gave the man an aggravated look before waving her hand at Cameron, earning her attention.

"Take care of him."

Nodding her head in compliance, Cameron made a steady stride towards the man, only giving a small grimace when the man fired, the bullet ripping through her jacket before tearing her camisole.

Taking the few seconds offered to her at the man's stunned expression when he realized his bullet did nothing to her, Cameron quickly grabbed his wrist, giving a quick twist, snapping his bone and forcing him to release the gun.

Placing her hand on his mouth to prevent his scream of pain from ringing in the air, she quickly brought her left knee up, slamming it into the man's stomach, causing him to give a strangled cry of surprise at the sheer strength behind the blow before Cameron delivered an elbow strike to the back of the man's head, causing his vision to blacken as his form slumped to the ground, barely unconscious.

Sarah, after making sure the man was still alive, turned her head in the direction of the truck.

Clenching her fists tightly and not seeing the truck anywhere, Sarah slammed her fist on the wall, letting out a menacing growl before she directed her eyes towards Cameron, her anger radiating off her form in waves.

"I lost him. I lost John."

Feeling her own ire rising at John's reckless behavior, Cameron grabbed the man by the collar of his uniform before slamming him against the wall of the warehouse, earning a strangled groan of pain from the semi-conscious individual.

"The shipment, where is it going?"

Trying in vain to release Cameron's grip on him, the man gave a her a self-righteous smirk, obviously momentarily forgetting what Cameron had done to him only a minute ago.

"And what are you going to do if I don't bitch?"

Cameron, nearly apoplectic now, adjusted her hold on the man before slamming him head first into the ground, knocking him out cold.

"That."

Pausing for a second, Cameron added, "Asshole."

* * *

Dr. Lyman's Office: 10:58 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Dr. David Lyman gave an aggravated sigh as he realized he made a mistake regarding one of his patients forms, again.

'_I wouldn't be making as many mistakes if he didn't stop getting surgery so much'_, he silently mused.

Quickly jotting down another scrap of information that he deemed unimportant but necessary, David let a small frown grace his features.

While he was a plastic surgeon, and usually had a nice excessively large income, that hadn't been the case in the last few months. Actually, if you were to see him just three months previously, you would have saw that he had a nice lump sum of money in the bank, a beautiful wife whom was near her full term of pregnancy, and a eight year old son.

And just like that, it went up in flames. Not literally flames, but the life he knew had come to an abrupt end. Underneath the pleasantries that was the public's view of his life, Dr. Lyman had a drinking problem. A problem that only become more profound at his wife's pregnancy.

He had stated vehemently that he didn't want another child, remembering the long tiring months spent with their first, and he did not want a repeat performance. One he especially didn't want to go through when he remembered the long dry spell he had to go without the intimacy he shared with his wife.

Now he wasn't saying that he went so long without the physical pleasures of sex, far from the truth actually. He dabbled a little here and there in prostitutes and escort services, most of which in the privacy of his own office. In his 2007 Toyota Tundra if the need came while on his way home or picking up his son from school. Hell, he even had a few flings with some of his female patients, often under the pretence of being a doctor and making sure the breast augmentation was a complete success. Twice in a row if he was lucky enough.

While in a religious sense he was breaking his vows to his wife, at the end of the day, he returned to her. At the end of the day, he returned to her. In his mind, if having a little fling or two helped bare through the horrid months he would have to endure, then so be it. It was after all, for the sake of his marriage and well-being of his family, right? Or so he thought.

It was unfortunate enough that one of little flings with his more frequent patient caused her to have an inflated ego, demanding that her surgeries be reduced in price in exchange for her silence in regards of their little rumps. Not at all amused by her means of blackmail, David rebuffed her, breaking all contact with her. After all, there was no real physical evidence of their affair, and if he remembered correctly, had seen the woman herself working on the corners of the Los Angeles. Any semen that she provided or found on her person could easily belong to another unsuspecting man, so he paid her threat no mind.

Evidently, that was the wrong decision.

That very day he got home, his wife was in a towering rage, half her bags packed and his son already waiting for in a cab outside his home. He pleaded, begged, threatened, and lashed out at her, denying any involvement with the woman after she had called and told the now current ex Mrs. Lyman of their late night, and sometimes early morning escapades.

And to prove the validly of her claim, she provided a medical report stating that she was currently six months pregnant.

And the child was his.

Three months later, he become the father of two baby girls and an unmarried man branded in society as an adultery and unfaithful husband.

Not only that, but the Medical Board suspended his license and only just recently renewed it under the strict conditioning that his every move be heavily monitored and that he had no outside contact with any of his patients.

And this is where he currently found himself, serving only male patients with his supervisor breathing down his neck on a daily basis, and he hadn't a decent amount of ass in months.

Now he had to spend his days alone in a one room apartment with barely any money coming in to pay for his bills, with child support he owed to two women for three separate kids on top of that.

Pausing in his notes, David's head snapped up at attention as he listened to the sounds of something being clicked repeatedly outside his office. Stopping his work for the moment, he quickly made his way outside, only to stop short at the sight before him.

It was a man, or at least he believed to be a man. The figure was draped in an assortment of sweaters, coats, and rags, completely covering every inch of his body from view.

"Excuse me! You're not supposed to be here! The office is closed now!"

"Do you do reconstructive surgery?"

Lyman reeled from the question, slightly surprised.

Regaining his air of confidence, now tied in with a hint of annoyance, Lyman gave an irritably sigh before he said, "Yes, but you'll have to make an appointment. Come back tomorrow so when can set something up. For now, I'll ask you one more time to please leave."

The man, whom David had realized was looking through his patients faces on his computers, ignored him what he said before stating in a slightly mechanical voice, "I require reconstructive surgery."

Turning his head around, David gave a startled gasp of complete and utter astonishment. The man's face was…deformed. More to the point, he realized, the man's face was just, skin. No dignifying blemishes, unique features, nothing. His face was similar to that of a blank slate.

Fumbling with his words and having to clear his throat several times, David was able to get out a halfhearted threat of calling the authorities before the man removed the mask he wore over his mouth, if possible fulfilling the look of a deranged individual.

"Now."

* * *

Salceda Residence: 11:19 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Ellison looked with an expression of disgust and pity as the paramedics wrapped up the remains of Enrique Salceda, a former convict and now former FBI informant.

Shaking his head in disbelief and wincing at the horrible stench of death that lingered in the air, James carefully walked over the taped area of where Enrique's body was found, crouching down so he was level with one of his liaisons, watching as they took pictures of the blood stained floor before giving him their attention.

"Anything?"

At the shakes of their heads, Ellison let a small sigh of aggravation slip through his lips. Ever since that day when Sarah Connor appeared naked near the remains of the Security Trust Bank, a list of murders started to appear.

First with a pair of garbage workers, one's death through decapitation and the other having his neck snapped. Following that was the murder of a homeless individual, whose body was found just outside of the second victims home. Then it was Dr. Isaac Fleming, whose bathroom was coated in blood that was later identified as the blood stolen from CA Medical Hospital, his eyes removed and his jugular snapped. In addition to these deaths was the death of a medical assistant at the hospital, and now the death of Enrique Salceda.

Six deaths. Six bodies.

All caused by one person.

And he was sure of who was involved with this crime.

Standing up, Ellison made his way out of the apartment complex before heading to his car.

He had a appointment to make.

* * *

Carlos Salceda felt conflicted. The reason for his confliction came in the form of FBI Special Agent James Ellison. Or, more specifically, the information he was just given my the man.

His uncle was dead.

He frowned, replaying that single detail in his head.

His uncle Enrique was dead. From what he understood, it would be close to a few weeks since his death. Apparently, cause of death wasn't determined as of yet. He was gunned down by three bullets and had his sternum broken as well as his lungs punctured.

Then again, he shouldn't really care at all on how he died, should he? He should care more about the fact that he was dead, gone, disappeared from the world once and for all.

He would have called for his crew to break out he beers in celebration, but he restrained himself. After all, the FBI was in front of him, and he didn't want to get into any trouble.

Lord knows they already had an inkling on his little business, and he preferred to stay out of jail at the moment.

He didn't want to run the risk of becoming like his dead uncle, now would he?

At that Carlos did let a small smile grace his face, one that Ellison had immediately caught before asking him when the last time he had spoken to his uncle.

"About two weeks ago. Discussing the last game with the Lakers." He neglected to mention that he and his uncle had a pool going on that little game, and that his uncle owed him over three grand.

Looks like he wasn't going to be seeing that anytime soon either.

Just his luck.

Being increasingly patient with the man, Carlos listened to post question after question to him. Dropping subtly hints that Enrique was going to sell some information to the FBI regarding a fugitive that had outrun the law for the better part of the past decade.

He also hinted that he may have been the one who created the false I.D for said individuals, something that Carlos found quite humorous.

Even if had sold these fugitives their new papers, why on earth would he tell Ellison, of all people, and implicate himself? He told Ellison as much, watching with an increasing amount of mirth as the man was starting to become frustrated.

And then he dropped the bombshell on him.

"Have you been in contact with Sarah Connor?"

Carlos raised a thin eyebrow at the question. Connor? Wasn't she supposed to be dead?

"I thought she died eight years ago? You know, here, in Los Angeles? The whole bank explosion? Body was never found?"

Ellison just nodded his head in response, waiting patiently for Carlos to continue.

He smirked again.

"Nope, haven't seen her. Why would I anyway?"

It was here that Ellison decided to bring up her past with his uncle, something that Carlos didn't appreciate in the least.

"I don't know her. Yeah, she hung around my uncle a bit back in the day, invited herself over to a few of my family's barbecues too. But if you happen not to notice, my uncle isn't the very discreet type if you know what I mean. He had a different woman hanging off his arm every other week. I still don't see why Tia Maria stayed with him."

Stopping his rant short, Carlos settled his brown eyes on James before he said lowly, "I don't know where Sarah Connor is. Never did, never will. She didn't come to me, and if she truly went to _El Rata_, she would have."

His facial expression hardened.

"I've got nothing else to say to you Mr. Ellison. I think you should leave." This point was only driven further when one of his crew took a menacing step towards Ellison, ready to forcibly remove him from the house if necessary.

Though not intimidated, Ellison stood up before handing Carlos his card.

"If you have any information that you might want to share with me, give me a call. I'd like to hear it."

As soon as the man left, Carlos ripped the card in half.

Like hell he was going to call him. He wasn't a rat, and more importantly, he wasn't his uncle.

And yet he found himself staring currently at the picture of three individuals of which he used to make three sets of fake I.D's a little over a year ago. The client himself didn't resemble the photo he had in hand of the boy in the least, and certainly not the other two as they were female. The man himself actually was a little filthy in appearance, though he didn't comment on it at the time. He'd seen worse after all.

No, what bothered him was that the I.D's weren't even for him, but a group of others that the man had said were friends of his. And one of these friends looked familiar. He actually felt like he was staring at a ghost.

That might have well been the case.

Because the face he was currently staring into belonged to Sarah Connor.

* * *

Campo de Cahuenga High School: 11:42 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

With her optical emissions detecting no humans present in the halls, Cameron quietly made her way towards her designated target.

After knocking the man unconscious, Cameron took the liberty of tying the man up before non-to-gently throwing him back inside the warehouse, not caring on whether or not the man suffered from any external or internal wounds in the process.

Following that little scuffle, both females returned to their choice of residence before tracking the signal on John's phone, able to get a lock on it until the signal was mysteriously lost just within a few seconds of finding it.

Realizing the only possible lead to John was now in the hands of the man Cameron had rendered unconscious, Sarah quickly called Bob before having him met her at the pier.

At Cameron's look of indignation, Sarah quickly explained that while John was absent from school, she still had to show up as her name was Cameron Gordon, not Baum. It would raise questions if both new students were both absent on the same day with no calls from either guardians.

Finding her reasons and argument invalid, Cameron was determined to point out the unnecessary need for her to go to school before an image of Jordon and Cheri appeared in her HUD.

Jordon was still expressing signs of depression, and a brief moment of contemplating suicide before Cameron had intervened. Leaving her alone outside the protection of her parents was a dangerous move that would become a complication and hindrance to her mental health.

Cheri on the other hand, was still an enigma to her. She gained very little information from her current investigations regarding the girl, and she still seemed to be the main focus of John's attention, particularly in his Chemistry class.

She had to bare witness to John's many attempts at gaining her attention in that situation seeing as she transferred classes in order to better protect him.

Or so she stated to Sarah when she questioned her on it.

So, begrudgingly when faced with the possibility of questioning the girl herself, Cameron agreed to have Bob take her place.

Unfortunately, when she arrived at school, she found out that Cheri was dismissed early under the request of her father. While she now partially wished she was with Sarah and currently looking for John, Cameron charged ahead and kept up the façade of being a regular teenage girl.

But that didn't mean she was happy with it.

Reaching her the room where her target should be residing, Cameron attempted to open the door, only to discover it locked. Increasing her grip on the doorknob, Cameron ripped it clean off, destroying the locking mechanism inside it.

Pushing the door open, Cameron did a scan, coming to the conclusion that the man was currently not in his office.

She frowned before a small smile graced her face.

If couldn't extract the information she needed from Mr. Harris directly, then perhaps his computer would be able to assertion the information she required.

Moving towards his desk, Cameron took his seat before turning attention to the Dell laptop that was sitting at the far end of the desk. Pulling it towards her, she flipped it open before the screen blared to life. Her face turned to an expression of distaste as a small box appeared in the center of the screen, requesting a password.

Gathering her thoughts, Cameron quickly did a cross-examination of Mr. Harris, taking in details from what Jordon had told her and what she had learned from his file and background.

Typing in the necessary characters, Cameron gave a small smile as the box immediately disappeared, bringing his desktop into view.

After all, she wasn't a sophisticated cyborg for nothing, now was she?

* * *

Depot 37: 01: 37 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Sarah waited patiently for the blast doors in front of her to open, her SPAS-12 held tightly in hand. After dropping Cameron back off at her school, Sarah immediately met up with Bob before she attempted to 'beat' the information she required form the man Cameron had rendered unconscious before hand.

Of course, things weren't ever that simple. Especially when it came to men. Men who thought that just because they had a bit of brawn and a bad attitude that they can bully others into getting their way. More so when those same men called her lady.

She hated being called lady.

Something that her 'friend' learned the hard way.

Even so, he still refused to give her what she wanted. So she left the job to Bob. Safe to say that she got what she wanted within a matter of seconds.

Depot 37. An abandoned military facility that hadn't been in use for almost twenty years. Up until recently anyway.

She asked Bob for the importance of the facility, questioning its importance to Skynet and its role in the future.

She was shocked to realize that the depot was to be converted into a Terminator Factory, more specifically a T-888 Factory. To make matters even more complicated, Cameron was built there as well.

After a bout of silence for the reminder of the drive, only pausing momentarily to dump the man off in a mine field, they arrived at the warehouse, only to feel their anxiety rise after Sarah received a call on her cell, John on the other line, on the other side of the doors. A pair of doors that wouldn't open unless with the proper activation key.

A key which was secured around Carter's neck.

After telling them how Carter had killed the remaining members of his team, he entered what Bob confirmed to be Standby Mode. John had fifteen seconds to open the door and run before Carter would reactivate himself.

In other words, don't stall.

Whether or not John was successful in his mission or not remained to be seen. It was approximately two minutes since his call, and Sarah felt herself starting to sweat at the sheer amount of time that it was taking to remove the key.

'_Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay!'_

The answer to her silent prayers came in the form of the sound of an alarm blaring before the doors started to crack open.

* * *

As soon as the blast doors were barely a few feet apart, Bob slipped through, grabbing Carter by the collar of his uniform before throwing him across the room, watching him crash into a pile of barrels before deviating his attention back to the room, locating John in the driver seat of the truck.

Switching the ignition on, John shouted for Sarah, whom already pried the passenger seat door open before taking the seat beside him.

Realizing that John was safe for the moment, Bob turned his gaze back to Carter, whom was currently making his way towards the truck, realizing that someone was trying to make off with it.

Running a scan on the T Unit's frame, Bob came to the conclusion that while it physically was of smaller stature, it had more power in both its power cell and hydraulic systems.

Glancing momentarily around itself, it found no weapon that would give it a edge in battle. Calculating a 21.63% chance of victory with a .321% margin of error, the T-800 made a quick stride towards its intended target before slamming both hands on the T-888 battle chassis, sending it several feet back, landing in a heap on the ground.

Not even breaking his stride, Bob quickly grabbed the T-888 before slamming his knee into the machines abdomen, knocking forward before delivering a similar strike to its face.

Staggering back from the respective blows, Bob didn't hesitate as he grabbed the machine once again, this time on the shoulders.

Carter in retaliation, brought both its arms down, knocking Bob's arms off his shoulders before he tried to duplicate his hold in a similar manner. Bringing his left arm up to block the incoming hold from Carter's right arm, Bob slammed his left forearm into the machine's jugular, forcing his head up, lessening his hold.

Bringing his fist back, Bob smashed his fist into the side of the triple eights skull, before placing his arm underneath its left forearm and latching his fingers on the machines triceps. Adjusting his hold by placing his free hand on the machine's collar, Bob picked him up in the air effortlessly before throwing him forward, watching as he landed head first into the crates of colton in the back of the truck.

Walking towards him, his stance rigid and full of purpose, Bob grabbed Carter by the shoulder, only for the T-888 to turn around abruptly, slamming a bar of colton against his face.

With his sunglasses shattered and slightly askew, Bob was about to remove them when Carter swung the bar once more at his face.

Grabbing hold of it, Bob was about to pry it away from the T-888 when he felt another bar smash into his face, this time revealing the silver gleam of his endoskull near his temple.

Turning his gaze back to its opponent, the T-800 realized quickly that the T Unit before him now held to metal bars of colton, drastically lowering his chances of victory from 21.63% down to 11.26%, this time with a .546% margin of error.

Bringing his arms up in a defensive position, Bob felt one of the metal bars hit his left side of his endoskeleton, before the other hit his clavicular links on his right front shoulder, causing his guard to slacken. The next strike he felt was on his right axial drive motor, which he swiftly brought his arm down on before ripping the bar free from the T-888's hands.

Swinging it in an arc, he slammed it into Carter's skull, only for the machine to slam the bar it still clutched in hand onto his right knee.

Feeling the bar of colton slamming into his servos and pistons on his right knee, Bob went down to the ground, surprise being the visible expression on his face before Carter slammed the bar of colton into his leg again, this time forcing one of pistons out of place, causing a strain to appear, leaving his leg momentarily useless.

Before he could run a diagnostic test and determine the actual damage, the T-888 grabbed Bob by the scruff of his jacket before throwing him further into the warehouse. Temporarily satisfied with the results, he made his way back to the truck, the T-800 struggling to get back on its feet and continue its pursuit.

* * *

Sarah watched out of the side mirror as Bob struggled to raise himself up, his right knee refusing to cooperate. Seeing Carter making his way towards them, Sarah turned her head back towards John, who was still struggling to put the truck in gear.

"If you're going to be the savior of mankind, you've got to learn how to drive stick."

Putting the gear on drive and stepping on the clutch, the engine roared to life before the truck started to move, John pressing harder on the gas to make it move even faster.

For a fleeting second, he thought they were going to make it.

But he should have realized that things were never that simple.

Before the truck was even feet of the blast doors, Carter appeared in front of the truck, placing his hands on the hood, pushing the vehicle back inside.

Panic flooded his systems as he hit the gas pedal even harder, only to see it have no effect as Carter began to slowly move the truck backwards, one agonizing step at a time.

Before Sarah could even open the door to handle the machine herself, she watched as a man appeared out of nowhere before grabbing Carter by his shoulders, flinging him across the room, the T-888's body colliding heavily with the pillar before slumping onto the ground.

That was when Sarah and John got a good look at him, and felt their stomachs drop at the sight before them. An image of a man with black spiked hair and cold calculating eyes appeared in their minds from a time in Red Valley, New Mexico.

Cromartie…

Sarah didn't realize the name left her lips until the machine paused, turning his head slowly to meet her gaze.

He paused momentarily to look at both Connors, his eyes glowing a hue of red underneath the sunglasses that covered them.

Reaching into the back interior of his jacket, the man now known as a Terminator, pulled out a M-79 before taking a shell out of its back pocket and loading it.

As soon as he snapped the weapon back in place, he made a straight beeline towards Carter, whom was now on his feet, making his way back to the new T Unit, no doubt processing him as a threat to its mission.

The unidentified Terminator as soon as he was close enough, fired the weapon, hitting Carter right in the chest, sending him flying back into the pillar once more, this time shattering right through it, landing in a heap on the ground.

With its flesh from its torso up burning away, Carter turned his endoskull towards the man, its red eyes glowing as it started to make its way towards him again.

This time the man didn't even hesitate as he fired another round, this time burning the remains of the machine's living tissue before firing again, this time destroying a good portion of its battle chassis. Aiming again, he fired one last round, this one destroying it, completely and utterly.

When the smoke cleared, John glanced inside the small crater, the smell of burnt tissue lingering in the air.

In the center of the crater was the remains of what had once been a fully operational T-888. All that was left was Carter's legs and the left side portion of its endoskull. Everything else was either molted metal or chunks of debris.

Moving its eyes towards Bob, John felt his stomach drop as it took another shell from its pocket before the unidentified machine made its way towards him, reloading the weapon it had in hand.

John and Sarah watched helplessly as it stood in front of Bob, whom was slowly rising to his feet, its right leg buckling slightly at the weight that he was putting on it.

"Robert Phillips?"

Raising his head at the name, Bob stared at the machine for a few seconds, no doubt doing a scan to assert what model the new arrival was.

Extending its hand and slinging the M-79 over its shoulder, it said in a monotone, "Come with me if you want to live."

* * *

Dr. Lyman's Office: 04:23 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Cromartie looked at his new face, running a diagnostic scan to make sure that it was as close to perfection as his original scan had predicted. His results came back as an exact 92% match.

Dr. Lyman was still watching him, astonishment and fear consuming his senses. After all, he just spent almost 48 hours straight in reconstructive surgery. Surgery that this man had just gone through without the aid of an anesthetic, something he was sure no human could possibly go though without feeling an unbearable inhuman pain.

"What are you?"

Cromartie didn't answer. There wasn't a reason too.

Dr. David Lyman was going to be dead in a few moments after all.

* * *

Resistance Warehouse: 04:53 Hours; Outskirts, Nevada…

* * *

Sarah felt her lips thinning and resisted the urge to sneer as Uncle Bob and the T-888 now identified as Richard started unloading the Colton. She had planned on driving the damn truck off a cliff, effectively getting rid of all of the future Terminator Units that would be constructed from it.

Unfortunately for her, both T Units had other plans. While Bob was more docile in his behavior and much easier to give orders to, Sarah realized that like Cameron, who was not above threats to get her way, Richard was the same way, if only more blunt.

When she had ordered him to dump the Colton into the ocean, he had raised the M-79 in his hand before firing it, the shell sailing inches from her head before exploding a few yards behind her.

Bob, whom was busy with securing the colton, turned his head at the blast, only to quickly asses the situation before muttering, "Nice shot."

Richard just fixed him a blank look.

"I missed."

Sarah decided then to let the colton be for now.

She currently was watching the machines unloading the crates upon crates of future endoskeletons into the Resistance Warehouse that Bob and Cameron had created, glaring at Richard's back as he bypassed her without so much as a glance.

Even Bob had the courtesy to acknowledge her presence, and he was basically a savage in comparison to Cameron and Richard, both advanced models whom had a far greater capability to learn.

And yet, it was the older models that actually showed her more respect, the newer models simply either threatened her or attacked her.

She would be lying if she said it didn't bother her. Machine or not, they could think, and on some level feel. They were sentient beings, and it pissed her off that they could so much as brush her off as unimportant.

She was Sarah Connor, John Connor's mother. Kyle had told her that everyone knew who she was, knew her story in the future. She was obviously important if Skynet sent back a machine to kill her, and more so if John sent back machines to protect her.

So why on earth did every single T Unit that was reprogrammed try in subtle and blunt ways to kill and threaten her? First there was Cameron with her threats and promises of killing her should she ever come between her and John, only then for Richard to show up and compound that by actually raising a weapon at her head and firing.

'_And he says he missed that shot.'_ Sarah snorted at the thought.

He didn't miss. He's a machine, a Terminator. They don't make mistakes like that, ever. What he had done was a fear tactic, something she had implicated more then once in her life.

The question was why? Was it of his own violation? Or was there something rooted in that computer processor he had for a brain that called for him to threaten her, possibly kill her if the opportunity presented itself?

Neither option appealed to her.

If he had actually done that on his own accord, then what would stop him from doing it again? Or worse, stop him from doing something similar to John? And if it was the second choice, there was only one person who she knew would have programmed the machine to act they way it did.

Not for the first time since her meeting with Cameron and her revelations about John did she question herself on whether or not he truly hated her or not in the future.

She realized at the moment Richard leveled his M-79 with her head that she had gotten her answer.

And it only gave her the incentive to redouble her efforts to connect with her son, to start thinking about his emotional well-being, not just his physical.

She snapped out of her thoughts as Richard pulled out the last of the colton, Bob turning the truck on before following his fellow machine into the warehouse, no doubt to leave the truck inside there as well.

Brushing the dirt off her jacket, Sarah headed to the EXT, getting in the passenger seat before waiting patiently for the machines to return, fighting the impulse to just take the car and leave them there in the desert.

After all, if she was going to make a connection with her son, she had to be willing to swallow her own pride and work with the machines that he obviously had grown an affection for, even if she didn't like it.

* * *

FBI Bureau: 05: 41 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

Ellison watched his latest suspect sit in front of him, a small inconsistent tap of his fingers the only indication of his nervousness, despite the small smile that was on his face.

George Lazlo. B-Film/television actor. A star in his own right.

Then again, James hadn't even heard or saw of the man until today when his face came up on the security tapes of the newest murder scene had to investigate. Just like half of the six murders, the victim, Dr. Lyman, was killed with his neck being snapped. This time though, they had a face to match with the killer.

Not only that, but they also had blood at the scene. Unnatural blood. Blood that didn't have a genetic strain in it. Blood without a host, without a link to any one person in the world.

But blood was blood, and it had to have a match somewhere to someone, and he was positive that person was sitting in front of him.

All he had to do was be patient. Patience was one of the Lord's gifts after all, and he excelled greatly at it.

Leaning forward in his chair, James pushed the folder in front of him to Lazlo, watching as he causally flipped it open before staring at the picture of blood and the dead bodies of Dr. Lyman and Dr. Fleming.

His eyes briefly turned misty before they went back to a neutral stance, the same with his expression, which grimaced for the barest of seconds.

Something that Ellison immediately caught, and realized with a slight pang that only a man completely taken by surprise at what laid before would have.

'_Innocence until proven guilty.'_

"That blood, Mr. Lazlo, was found at the crime scene of Dr. Lyman. Similar blood was found at the scene of Dr. Fleming's murder as well. Both are a match. And, at the time of Dr. Lyman's murder, you were saw leaving the man's office."

Leaning back into his chair, James gave the folder a momentarily glance before bringing his eyes to level with George's.

"Now unless there are two George Lazlo's running around, which I doubt, then all this points directly to you."

To his credit, George didn't even bat an eye at the accusation thrown at him, instead, he seemed to be even more relaxed.

An actor through and through.

"You said there was blood. Does it match to mine?"

With that, the door opened, Greta walking in, another folder in hand.

Passing it to Ellison before giving him a small smile, she left the room, both occupants eyes on her until the door closed, hiding her from view.

Flipping the folder open with a causal flick of his fingers, James frowned as he read the results.

Negative? How can the blood test prove negative?

Glancing at Lazlo, whom now appeared to be anxious, James allowed a polite smile to grace his face. He may have loss his number one suspect, but at least he could feel the small elation that he was that much closer to capturing whomever the killer was.

And becoming that much closer to finding Sarah Connor.

Closing the folder and outstretching his hand, James said, "Test came out negative. Sorry for your troubles Mr. Lazlo. You're free to go."

Surprised registered on his face before he masked his features once again.

"Really? That's it?"

James' smile stretched a bit further.

"That's it. Sorry for the trouble. I trust you know your way out?"

At Lazlo's hesitant nod which soon turned vigorous, Ellison watched the man leave before his shoulders slumped slightly.

'_Guess I'm back on square one.'_

* * *

Lazlo Residence: 06:45 Hours; Los Angeles, California…

* * *

George couldn't believe the luck he was having, all explicitly bad.

First, the new movie he was hoping to get the leading role in was given to another actor, one whom the director and producer felt had a more plausible future in the movie industry then George did. To further his bad mood, because of his abrupt arrest, he had missed an interview for another movie that he was hoping to get another appraising role in. To make matters worse, he was fired from his job at the 7/11, and his rent was due soon.

Mumbling a small bout of curses under his breath, Lazlo threw a slice of two days old pizza into the microwave before setting the time for a minute.

During those sixty seconds, George couldn't help but growl.

Sometimes he felt like god went out of his way to make his life miserable.

With his microwave beeping signaling the end of his meal, George pulled the plate out, letting out a minor hiss as his fingers stung from the heat.

Muttering under his breath, George made his way back to his living room, pausing momentarily to look at his reflection in his body sized mirror.

After all, he had used a good amount of money to get this face, might as well admire it if no one else would, right?

Just as he was taking in his features, he noticed someone that was behind him.

A person who was currently wearing his face.

Before he could even think of a single thing to say, the mysterious look-alike grabbed the back of his head, causing George to let out a strangled cry of pain as he was lifted off his feet before being brought closer to the mirror.

Struggling, George attempted to kick his captors legs, wincing as he did so, noticing immediately that it felt as if he had hit a piece of stainless steel.

With his face mere centimeters from the mirror, George felt a chill run down his spine as he remembered that the man whom was suspected of killing those three individuals that the FBI Agent had mentioned.

A man who was supposed to look like him.

With the grip on his head increasing, George let out a scream of pain which soon turned to terror as his look-alike screamed as well.

Screaming in his voice, in the exact same manner, at the same exact pitch.

That was the last thing that crossed his face as he stared blankly at his broken reflection, the last thing he saw being his own face, morphed into a permanent mask of absolute terror.

* * *

James waited patiently for George Lazlo to open the door. He wasn't sure if he was home or not, but he assumed he would be.

After all, being apprehended by the FBI for the murder of three individuals was no small feat, one of those individuals being an FBI informant, and the others being two of most respectable doctors in their fields.

And the simple fact that the man whom was last seen with the now deceased Dr. Lyman was George Lazlo.

'_Or wearing Lazlo's face'_, he reminded himself.

Ellison snapped out of his thoughts as the door opened revealing Lazlo to be standing behind it, an expression of confusion crossing his face.

Giving a friendly smile, James said, "Good afternoon Mr. Lazlo. I'm guessing, that your surprised in seeing me again today? Especially since I promised we wouldn't have to ever again following your interview."

Lazlo still didn't answer him, instead tilting his head to the side, an inquisitive look now present on his face.

Ignoring his lack of a response, Ellison reached into his inside pocket of his jacket before pulling out a card, his contact information written on it. "I feel that Mr. Lazlo that you are in danger. I have no doubt in my mind that the same person who killed Dr. Lyman, is going to come after you and kill you as well. Having two George Lazlo's in the world after all is going to cause our killer some problems that I'm sure he would like to avoid."

Handing the man his card, James gave Lazlo one last friendly smile before he said softly, "In the event that you need to call me about anything, please do. If you feel threatened or in danger, I will only be to happy to help."

Lazlo was stared at him rather blankly for a moment before he gave a rather forced smile.

"Thank you Mr. Ellison. I will be sure to call you in the event something like that would occur."

Nodding his head in acceptance, James outstretched his hand before saying, "I'll hope I won't be receiving that call anytime soon."

Taking a momentarily glance behind him, Lazlo stared blankly into his room for a few seconds before turning his gaze back towards him.

"No. You won't."

James smiled a bit uneasily at the man's behavior.

"I can only hope."

Taking his hand and giving it a firm shake, James quickly left the premise, unaware of Lazlo's eyes watching him until he was out of sight, the man's eyes glowing red as soon as he disappeared.

If he had looked over the man's shoulder, he would have seen the real George Lazlo laying motionlessly on the ground, a small pool of blood gathering around his skull.

* * *

**Terminator Units/Classes:**

* * *

**T-800 Series; Model 101 (Uncle Bob):**

**Outdated Terminator Unit. No Longer Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; N/A.**

**Primary Mission Objective; PROTECT JOHN CONNOR. (In Progress)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; CREATE WEAPON/EQUIPMENT STORAGE HOUSE FOR HUMAN RESISTANCE. (In Progress)**

**Third Mission Objective; LOCATE AND JOIN T-888 UNIT, 'RICHARD'. (Complete)**

**Fourth Mission Objective; TERMINATE ENRIQUE SALCEDA. (Complete)**

**STATUS: ACTIVE.**

***************

**T-888 Series; Model 105 (Richard):**

**Advanced T-850 Terminator Unit. Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; Infiltration.**

**Primary Mission Objective; PROTECT JOHN CONNOR. (In Progress)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; UNKNOWN. (Complete)**

**Third Mission Objective; ASSIST T-800/TOK-715 SERIES IN CONSTRUCTION OF FUTURE RESISTANCE WEAPONRY AND SUPPLIES. (In Progress)**

**Fourth Mission Objective; TERMINATE T-888 'CARTER' UNIT. (Complete)**

**Fifth Mission Objective; OBTAIN COLTON SHIPMENT FOR FUTURE RESISTANCE USE. (Complete)**

**Sixth Mission Objective; UNKNOWN. (In Progress)**

**STATUS: ACTIVE.**

* * *

**T-888 Series; Model (Cromartie):**

**Advanced T-850 Terminator Unit. Mass Produced. Primary Function; Termination. Secondary Function; Infiltration.**

**Primary Mission Objective; TERMINATE JOHN CONNOR. (In Progress)**

**Secondary Mission Objective; INITATE SELF REPAIR. (Complete)**

**STATUS: ACTIVE.**

* * *

**//-/Author Note/-//**

**I'm sorry it me so long to update! One thousand pardons on my part! I was hit with new inspiration for this and decided to write out all my ideas! I pretty much rewrote this entire chapter about five times before I was finally able to get what I wanted out of it! Again, I'm sorry!**

**I've been trying to also updated all my other stories as well, another reason why it took me so long to update. I have also set up a poll on my profile with a list of five of my stories. Basically, since I don't have the time to work on each one of them, the two stories with the highest number of votes will be the ones I am going to work on, alongside What Should Have Been. The reason why it is not on the poll listings is because this one is a given on my part. The poll will be open for until July 8th****, and the two winning stories will be announced upon my next update.**

**Besides that, I have also figured out what to do concerning my future WSHB Series, writing a synopsis and have everything planned out. I have also started out writing out the first chapter for WSHB II and should have that posted immediately following my final chapter of WSHB I.**

**More to the point, Richard if any of you remember, makes another appearence! I wonder what he's there for... :D**

**To close this little piece, remember to review and tell me what you think. Criticism or any suggestions are welcomed and encouraged.**

**Later. ;P**


End file.
